


For Whom The Bell Tolls

by Saetha



Series: Two Suns in the Sunset [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (more characters and relationships to be added eventually), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Badass Bilbo, Badass Everyone Really, Blood, Character Death, Daisy the warg in human form, F/F, F/M, Grief, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Illness, Multi, PTSD, Permanent Injury, Police, SWAT, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 94,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2478830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saetha/pseuds/Saetha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although things seemed to have calmed down after the botched SWAT attempt to capture Azog five years ago, the crime lord and his superior in the shadows are steadily increasing their influence, their activities branching out in all kinds of illegal areas. The Boston Police Department under Gandalf is working hard to bring them under control in their city, but to no avail so far and the fact that there seems to be a clever little spy in their ranks isn't helping either. </p><p>Thorin and Dwalin are still working at the Mobile Operations Patrol Unit under Thranduil. That is, until a horrible incident throws their lives and those of many others out of balance and triggers a storm of violence from which no one will escape unscathed. </p><p>(Knowledge of the previous stories in the series not necessary, though obviously recommended (; ).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And here it is! This baby has been stewing in our heads and on our computers for quite a while and finally, the first chapter is done. It's worth mentioning that this story won't strictly follow the timeline from canon - we took out some events and characters, but made our own story with that. Put on your seat belts and let's have fun, shall we? (Although the 'fun' is debatable *cough*) It's gonna be quite a ride.
> 
> The name of the story, by the way, comes from three sources - the below poem by John Donne, the amazing song by Metallica and the beautiful piece on the Donnie Darko OST. Also, check out [this amazing gifset](http://theheirsofdurin.tumblr.com/post/98834766553) my wonderful muse and co-conspirator made for our AU!

_Each man's death diminishes me,_  
_For I am involved in mankind._  
_Therefore, send not to know_  
_For whom the bell tolls,_  
_It tolls for thee._

_(John Donne, 1623)_

Contrary to his reputation as 'person in the shadows', the man known as Smaug rather enjoyed light and sunshine. Today was a mild early summer day - perfect for removing the weed that had begun sprouting in the flowerbeds of the mansion. Smaug's movement's were precise, ripping out the unwanted plants one by one.

Azog watched him for a moment before he dared to approach. He had always found his boss's tendency for gardening strange, but there was something oddly chilling about watching the man remove plant by plant and crush the occasional vermin between his fingers. Azog neither liked nor disliked the man; he feared him and thus accepted his orders. It was easy to underestimate him in such peaceful surroundings, but Azog had seen him giving order to torture or kill people with the same emotion he showed when ripping out weeds or killing insects and slugs - none at all.

Smaug didn't look up when he approached, leaving Azog to wait until he deigned the flowerbed clean enough to leave it alone for a moment. He brushed off his clothes when he stood up, not a single grain of dirt visible on the immaculate fabric. His eyes were as dispassionate and cold as ever, making Azog shudder internally.

"Anything new about Durinsson and the documents?"

Azog shook his head.

"None. It seems like they are truly lost."

"Good." Smaug's lifeless voice sounded almost satisfied. "Our information source is still active?"

"Yes." Azog thought of the small man whose innocent face had fooled a lot of people. His services had been instrumental in keeping up with the police's work - the fact that said police still believed he was working for them helped matters greatly. The coup at the _Pinecone_ several years ago would have been all but impossible without the informant's help.

"I will meet with him again in a few week's time."

Smaug nodded, his pale eyes flickering over Azog's face, entirely unfazed by the scars on it, before drilling into Azog's dark ones.

"And our newest member?" he asked almost casually, although Azog could tell that it was this question that interested him most.

"He thinks he knows more than he actually does. I'm sure he'll be even more useful in the future, especially since he doesn't seem to suspect anything about the ones behind the operation yet."

"Excellent." Smaug's sharp sight discovered a lily beetle on one of his plants and he narrowed his eyes. His gloved fingers picked up the small creature and watched as it wriggled in his grip, unable to break free. "Do take care he doesn't see what he isn't supposed to see, though. And if he does..." A sudden movement crushed the beetle between his fingertips, leaving not much more than an ugly smear behind. "Kill him."

Azog inclined his head, thinking about how much he disliked the young man (and his relatives) who had joined them a few months ago, thinking he was just being part of a smaller, much more local organisation that was operating at the edge of legality. It would only be too easy to arrange a situation for him to witness which would give enough grounds for killing him...

"Yes, sir."

Azog made sure that none of his thoughts were showing in his eyes - Smaug was a master at picking up clues and if he doubted his loyalty even for a single moment, Azog knew he wouldn't live to see the next year. The talks turned to other business matters afterwards and when Smaug was satisfied that his employee had fulfilled all his tasks adequately, Azog was finally allowed to go. Daisy's eyes when he met her at the entrance of the garden were as unreadable as ever, but the company of his bodyguard gave him at least an illusion of security again. It was a feeling which had deserted him entirely in the presence of the quiet man who was now once again engrossed in weeding.

*

The King's Lair was a little-known pub located in some of the lesser frequented areas away from the main Boston tourist magnets. It survived mainly because of its regular customers of which there were quite a few, filling the majority of the stools and tables every evening. Frerin had been meeting his brother here once a month for more than a decade, a pattern that had only been broken a few times so far (most notably by Thorin's long period of recovery after the _Pinecone_ disaster and Frerin's extended road trip from east to west coast after graduating from College a few years earlier).

Thorin was already waiting for him at their usual place next to the pool table, two glasses of beer and a book in front of him. He threw him a quick smile when he heard Frerin approaching and put his reading aside, not without carefully marking the page he had been on with what almost looked like a custom-made leather bookmark. Frerin grinned to himself; the gift almost screamed 'Dwalin' to him and he was sure that his brother's partner for the past five years had given it to him. Thorin would have skinned him alive for any comment relating to it, however, and so he simply propped down on the second chair at the table and took a long sip of his drink before greeting him.

They were busy with a game of pool soon after, another part of their meeting routine they had retained throughout the years. Frerin told Thorin that the new job at a different restaurant he had started a few months back was turning out to be much better than the old one at a different place. Thorin was thoroughly entertained when he told him the story of several rogue customers, some of which had started to throw food first at each other, and then at him.

Those stories also served to test Thorin's mood and after discerning that his brother did indeed seem to be light-hearted today, he dared to ask:

“So how is the work with the new recruits going? Didn’t you get a new class a few weeks ago?”

Sometimes, when Thorin was in a black mood, any mention of him being unable to go out into the field anymore could send him brooding. Today, however, he just made a face somewhere between a grin and a grimace.

“Yeah, I did. They aren’t too bad, although some of them...” he shook his head and sighed, an action that seemed to make him age at least ten years in Frerin’s mind, if not more. He also noticed that the first strands of grey had started to appear in his brother’s dark hair.

“Did Dwalin ever tell you that you are starting to sound and look like an old man, Thorin?”

Frerin evaded Thorin’s cuff on the back of his head with the help of reflexes honed for over three decades. From the glare his brother sent his way he deduced that Dwalin had indeed told him so, and likely multiple times already. Thorin took up his narration exactly where he had left off, as if he hadn’t heard Frerin’s comment.

“You know that we always have theoretical as well as practical lessons. The former are always less popular than the latter, as you can probably imagine. You’d think that at their age those people would know the proper conduct in a goddamn lesson, but there’s sometimes as much talking and nonsense as if they were back at high school again.”

Thorin took a sip of his drink and shook his head. Frerin had to suppress another grin at how much he was sounding like their mother now whenever she was complaining about her students. She would likely laugh at the irony if she knew that her oldest son, who had always wanted to be different than his academic parents, was now having almost the same hassle teaching than she did. Then, however, it was hardly Thorin’s fault that he had to leave the active SWAT work behind after his injury and switch to office work and instructing their new recruits instead.

“Anyway,” Thorin continued. “We always use actual cases to illustrate what we’re talking about. Balin only passed me the new material for yesterday’s lesson last week so I didn’t have time to look through it thoroughly until the day before yesterday. We talked about how a mission will likely never go the way you expect it to and brought up a few examples to underline the statement. And guess which operation that arse Thranduil apparently thought fit to put in last...”

“Don’t tell me...”

“Yeah, exactly.” Thorin took another mouthful of his beer and put the glass down on the table with an audible bang. “As you can imagine I had absolutely no desire to recount what happened at the _Pinecone_ to any of those young recruits staring me in the face.”

“Wow.”

Frerin shook his head. He knew that Thorin and his boss Thranduil had never been on the best terms and that the relationship had gradually worsened since Thorin had started working in the office most of the time, but he had never thought it to be quite _that_ bad. He could only imagine Dwalin’s reaction when Thorin had told him about it – it had likely involved a lot of swearing and the promise to do unsavoury things to a variety of Thranduil’s body parts. Frerin also knew that none of his threats would ever come true – despite everything that had transpired, they both still loved their jobs and there were worse bosses than Thranduil out there.

“The worst is that the story spread like wildfire through pretty much the entire police department back then and most of the recruits have connected the dots already and more or less know who I am.” Thorin stared down into his drink with a frown on his face.

What he didn’t tell Frerin about was how much he hated it – the look of pity he could see in the eyes of some of them or that of admiration, neither of which he felt he deserved or wanted. Thorin hadn’t even wanted to talk to Dwalin about the incident at first, knowing that it would just serve to make him angry and, at the same time, protective. Sometimes he welcomed the extra attention those outbursts brought with them, but at other times Thorin felt so unworthy that he’d rather escape the additional swearing and tenderness. Of course, however, he had told him eventually – by now Dwalin had developed a keen sense for whenever something had gone wrong. The following rant against Thranduil had almost been worth it (as well as Dwalin’s fingertips carefully tracing the shape of the tensed-up muscles on his back and shoulders, somehow conveying more comfort in such a small gesture than an ordinary embrace would have done).

Frerin gave his brother a small, reassuring smile and put a hand on his shoulder. He knew Thorin had buried the events of five years ago rather than ever truly confronting and dealing with them and no amount of advice from him, Dís, their parents or even Dwalin had been able to sway him in his way.

“By the way – did you ever find the documents that Azog talked about?”

Thorin hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.

“No. Although I’ve never really had the time to do a thorough search of mother’s inheritance as I had planned.”

With that, the topic was obviously closed for him since he turned all of his attention back to the game of pool in front of them. Frerin sighed and decided to let the subject rest for now; his brother was more stubborn than a stable full of mules and there would be no more talking about the events of the past now. He watched as Thorin retied his hair into a bun to finish up their game. The gesture reminded him of something Thorin had told him a while ago and he grinned when he remembered it.

"Is Thranduil still bothering you to cut your hair?"

Thorin snorted.

"Every time he sees me. It wouldn't feel like a proper day at work without him nagging about it at least once."

Frerin could almost imagine it. Despite Thorin's complaints about Thranduil, he knew the feeling was mutual - his brother probably did his fair bit to rile up his boss so that he likely deserved more than half of what was thrown back at him.

"Maybe he's just jealous of your luscious curls, what with his own hair being straight like the stick up his ass."

Thorin almost missed his shot at the casually thrown-out 'luscious curls', a move that he neatly diverted into a stabbing motion in Frerin's direction.

"Yeah, sure." he said and rolled his eyes. "And I'll get a call by Gandalf tomorrow, telling me I was promoted to Department Head."

Frerin laughed and skipped back, avoiding his brother's queue in the last possible moment. It was good to see that no matter what happened, the teasing between him and Thorin would always be the same.

"Well, you never know. Don't tell me I didn't warn you though!" Thorin shook his head at his brother's exclamation and sighed in an exasperated manner, unable, however, to hide the smile tugging at his lips.

"And you?" he asked. "Aren't the people at your new workplace unhappy about your hair as well?"

Frerin glanced down at the ends of his blond dreadlocks that were hanging from his ponytail over his shoulder.

"Nah, they're fine with it. I'm only being a waiter and doing some deliveries after all, not working in the kitchens."

He didn't mention that it wasn't only the restaurant he was doing deliveries for anymore. There was no need for Thorin to know all about the his other ventures just yet - better to wait and reveal it to him all at once, once he'd made himself a name. Besides, he wasn't quite sure his other activities were strictly legal and his brother was, after all, a police officer. Thorin seemed to sense that there was more to his brother's stories, but he only regarded him quizzically for a moment before he returned his attention to their game.

They left the bar together two hours later to catch their train home, saying goodbye with a pat on the shoulder and the promise to meet again in a month's time.

Dwalin had already gone to bed when Thorin came home. No wonder - he had the early shift the next morning and if there ever was a person unable to function on too little sleep, it was Dwalin. Even if he caught six hours or more, he probably shouldn't be called a person without at least one cup of coffee inside him, Thorin mused. Normally they would have gone to work together in the morning so that they both finished early, but the meeting with Frerin had called for a slight change of plans.

Thorin tiptoed into the living room, not bothering to switch on the lights. After almost six years of living together he knew their shared apartment well enough to be able to orient himself only by the soft glow of the streetlights from outside. Dwalin was snoring faintly and Thorin smiled when he heard the sound. He undressed quickly and brushed his teeth, the weariness of a long day's work and an evening out finally catching up with him. When he crawled under the covers he was already half asleep.

Dwalin grunted when Thorin's cold toes pressed against his leg, seeking the warmth of his body. Thorin shuffled closer and was rewarded with a satisfied little sound from his partner at the contact of so much skin - a haven of comfort from the darkness that Thorin's dreams still brought him more often than he liked to admit even to Dwalin. They drifted off into sleep soon enough, bodies so close that there was barely a breath's space between them.

*

Things returned to their normal routine the next day already, when Thorin wished he would have been able to leave early with Dwalin instead of having to stay and doing more paperwork. The weeks flew by in their usual pattern, their rhythm dictated by shift times and the occasional evening out. After so many years in a relationship, Dwalin and Thorin had long worked out how to best structure their time and adapt to the needs of the other - it was, for example, an unspoken rule that Thorin was the first to get up in the morning and put on coffee, on the grounds of being much more of a morning person than Dwalin could ever hope to be. So much of their own personalities had rubbed off onto the other - under Thorin's supervision Dwalin had now learned how to cook reasonably well and Thorin in turn was more than able to take care of his partner's orchids and other plants that slowly kept accumulating in their apartment.

Thorin's next meeting with his brother was only a day away when he and Dwalin returned from a night they had spent eating out at _The Q_ , one of their favourite restaurants. Thorin had just taken off his shoes and coat when the phone rang, the display showing Frerin's mobile number. He frowned - it was unusual for Frerin to call him when they were meeting the next day. Rescheduling usually happened per text. Thorin knew something was wrong a split-second before he picked up the phone.

"Th-Thorin?"

He almost didn't recognise Frerin's voice at first. His brother was usually cheerful, with a certain carefree note to everything he said that had always annoyed their father greatly. Now, however, Frerin sounded almost like the 6-year-old boy again who had come running to Thorin one rainy night because he had broken his mother's favourite vase and was fearing her anger.

"Frerin?"

"Yeah. I- Thorin, h-help me."

His voice descended into almost unrecognisable babbling and Thorin gripped his phone more tightly, trying to sound calm besides the panic starting to spread through his own chest.

"Calm down, Frerin. Breathe. Tell me where you are."

Despite his best efforts a slightly panicked edge was creeping into his voice, too. He could see Dwalin turn around and frown at him, clearly noticing that something was wrong.

"I d-don't know. It's dark. It's an alleyway, I think. Nor far from the restaurant. B-but-"

There was a muffled shout at the other end of the line and a panicked sound from Frerin.

"Frerin!" The knuckles on Thorin's hand were standing out white. Dwalin walked over to him, mouthing a question in his direction which Thorin didn't answer. He was too intent listening to what was going on wherever his brother was just now.

"Thorin, they're here! I know I shouldn't have looked, I know I should've just stayed at my place, I should've-" Frerin's was high and completely panicked.

"Calm down." Thorin repeated again, knowing it was in vain and unable to project the confidence needed into his own voice. "Frerin, what happened? What did you see?"

"They k-killed him. And now they're going to kill me. I can see them coming, Thorin, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

His frantic talking was interrupted by another shout, this time much closer, and someone saying something in a calm, measured tone.

"No, please, no..." Frerin's begging was all but useless. Thorin could only listen helplessly as his brother's voice suddenly stopped at the same moment a loud bang echoed through the connection; then there was a crash at the other end and the line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daisy, by the way, is what Manu Bennett told us is the name of Azog's warg, he human version of which is Azog's bodyguard in this universe (and I love her. A lot.).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back! So, here we go, chapter number two. As a wise commenter noted - Thorin isn't exactly in a calm state of mind right now and I hope I could convey that (and yes, it's gonna get worse. Remember what I said about Thorin never dealing with the trauma at the Pinecone, just pushing it aside? Yeah.). Also, Bilbo makes an entrance! And more Dís. Because frankly, you can never have enough Dís - and Frerin was her brother, too, just as much as he was Thorin's.

"FRERIN!" Thorin kept yelling his brother's name into the phone, in the vain hope he might hear him answer despite the dead line. His hands were shaking and panic was clouding his thoughts. He had to help him, he had to call the others at the police, he had to go there, he had to call Dís, he had to-

Dwalin's hand landed on his shoulder, gripping it so tightly that it hurt.

"Thorin." His voice was firm, but the soft undertone belied his worry. It was the only reason that Thorin didn't turn around snarling and trying to shake Dwalin's hand off. "Calm down. What happened?"

Dwalin's words invoked an echo of what he had said just moments earlier to Frerin and Thorin felt another surge of panic wash through him at the memory.

"Frerin, he- he-..." Thorin's thoughts were racing and seemed stuck at the same time. Dwalin's hand squeezed again and he forced himself to take a deep breath. "He begged me to help him. He said he was being followed. Then there was a shot and the line broke off."

He refused to acknowledge what all of this implied, his mind shying away from the very words of ' _my brother is dead_ '. Dwalin seemed to hear them anyway, his grip around his shoulder tightening once again and the worried frown on his face deepening. Thorin was starting to squirm against his grip in the desire to get away, to do something, _anything_ to help his brother despite the danger of it being far too late. In any other situation they should have waited, called for backup, but it was the last thing on Thorin's mind right now to lose more time.

Dwalin removed his hand from Thorin's shoulder as soon as he felt the resistance, wordlessly shoving his coat back at him instead. He knew it was useless to try and hold him back without using force and whatever the situation, the latter was the last thing he ever wanted to do without consent. When Thorin made a grab for the car keys, however, he was a thought faster, cutting off an angry rant from Thorin’s side with a shake of his head.

“I’m driving.” he said. He didn’t dare let his partner sit behind the wheel, not in the condition he was in right now. Thorin would sooner crash the car than reach the place where Frerin presumably was.

They barely spoke throughout the drive, Thorin frantically re-dialling Frerin’s number ever so often only to have his trembling hands sink down into his lap again when the line remained dead, his feet tapping a nervous rhythm on the floor. The constant sound and movement were starting to grate on Dwalin’s nerves but he said nothing, knowing that any comment from his side might have led to Thorin storming out of the car.

Frerin had worked at a small restaurant in one of the many Boston suburbs and Thorin had visited him a few times there together with Dwalin, obviously annoying his little brother with the most complicated orders he could think about. The place was closed for the day, however, and Thorin frowned – Frerin shouldn’t even have been here today.

Dwalin was lucky enough to find a parking spot nearby, cursing as Thorin was out of the car almost the second he stopped.

“Thorin!” he yelled after him, but to no avail. He finished parking the car, swearing loudly and running after Thorin as soon as he could.

Despite it being a suburbian area at a relatively late hour there were enough people still around. One of them had obviously heard the shots and phoned the police, for when Dwalin finally caught up with Thorin, he was walking swiftly towards a policeman who was busy keeping the crowd away from the entrance of a small side alley.

“Bofur!” Thorin had recognized the officer a moment before Dwalin did. The normally cheerful man had been one of Thorin’s closest friends and patrol partner before he had changed to MOP and they still met up occasionally. According to Thorin, he had also jokingly tried to get Dís’ number off him multiple times. Bofur apparently still worked at their old department, although it was no surprise – he had always loved being out on patrol the best.

“Thorin?” The moment Bofur connected the image of the frantic man running towards him with his old friend, his already serious face lost all colour. Dwalin wasn’t even sure Thorin had noticed, but it certainly didn’t bode well. Bofur’s next words just confirmed his suspicion as he was trying to hold Thorin back and keep him from running past him. “Thorin, you shouldn’t-“

“Bofur, _what happened to Frerin_?” The terror in Thorin’s voice clenched Dwalin’s heart.

Bofur swallowed, obviously unsure whether he should share any details about what he had seen. After a moment, he closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath.

“He’s dead, Thorin.” he said softly.

“ _No_.” Thorin’s voice was almost unrecognisable.

He stared at Bofur, his eyes wide, before he suddenly made a dash to get past him. Both Bofur and Dwalin were a thought too slow to catch him and so Dwalin barrelled past Bofur with an apologetic glance to keep up with Thorin, all the while praying that it was all a terrible misunderstanding or a bad dream. He almost ran into Thorin who had stopped as abruptly as he had dashed off. One gaze at the scene told Dwalin Bofur had been right.

Dwalin didn’t look for long, but the image burnt itself into his mind nonetheless and it would be the one he would remember for the rest of his life, despite having seen objectively worse in every day traffic accidents. Two shots, clear in the head, and a lot less blood than someone would expect. ‘Professionals’ a distant voice in his head told him, but it was almost drowned out by the icy embrace of shock. It cost him all the energy he still had to turn his head and look at Thorin.

Not a single muscle was moving in Thorin’s face, his entire body utterly still and frozen to the spot as he looked at his little brother. Dwalin didn’t know what to do; he tried to imagine Balin lying there and failed, his mind reeling back from such an image with violent force. He reached out to touch Thorin’s shoulder, but before he could finish the movement, Thorin suddenly reeled forwards to make a grab at something on the ground.

It was Frerin’s phone, display shattered and broken. Another arm shot out, a split second earlier than Dwalin’s to keep Thorin from picking it up. Dwalin looked up and directly into Eowyn’s face, the young woman who had become Bofur’s new partner after Thorin had left. He had met her only briefly, but he knew that Bofur was as fond of her as he would be of a sister.

Thorin violently jerked free from Eowyn’s strong grip, but now Dwalin was there to hold him back. The struggle continued for a short moment before Thorin went limp in his arms and Dwalin didn’t know what was worse – the utter lifelessness in his eyes now or the violent disbelief that had let him to struggle earlier.

“Thorin. Let’s go.” He wanted Thorin away from the scene of the crime, wanted him to be no longer confronted with the corpse of his brother. Thorin made another half-hearted attempt to get closer to Frerin but Dwalin’s grip around him was firm this time. Partly he hated himself for it, but he knew it wouldn’t do Thorin any good, not at the moment – and also likely obscure evidence.

He mouthed a ‘Sorry’ in Eowyn’s direction who just gave him an understanding smile and answered that it was fine – it was obviously not the first time she had been confronted with a victim’s family. Thorin didn’t move by himself again, didn’t say a single word on the way to the car and back home, all his movements strangely cut off from any emotion like that of a broken doll. He didn’t even look at Dwalin when he undressed and crawled under the covers of their bed. Dwalin watched him, still unsure of what to do and feeling utterly helpless. He knew that they should call Dís and tell her before the police did and that they should likely inform the relevant branch of the BPD about the phone call Thorin had received. At the same time he couldn’t bring himself to do any of these things and it took him a while to summon enough strength to at least call Dís and tell her what had happened.

*

Bilbo Baggins had never liked being the bringer of bad news. And with Smaug as the recipient he liked it even less. Even though he had seemingly been working for him for several years now, he would never go as far as calling himself the man’s friend or even a ‘trusted advisor’. Smaug trusted no one, not even those who had been with him for decades.

Due to the rainy nature of the day, Smaug wasn’t working in the garden – instead he was residing inside his mansion, overseeing his numerous affairs with the same practised ease he had usually reserved for the tending of his plants.

“Sir.” Bilbo inclined his head as he entered the room, the gesture a perfect balance in its duration and angle to show respect, but not total submission. Smaug had no value for those grovelling before him.

“Mr. Baggins.” Smaug nodded in his direction and offered Bilbo one of the immaculate leather seats in front of his table. “I heard you had urgent news for me.”

“Yes.” Bilbo sat up a little straighter, cautioning himself not to let his attention slip a single inch. Mistakes like that could mean death with a man like Smaug, especially if someone was playing a dangerous game as he was. He knew not to dawdle, but come straight to the point.

“Durinsson’s brother is dead.” _Frerin_ , he reminded himself. The young man’s name had been Frerin and it was a name he would force himself to remember for the rest of his life. A glint in Smaug’s eyes was the only reaction he received, but he could practically see the finely-tuned wheels of his mind turning behind his forehead, considering how he could use this new bit of information to his advantage.

“It was on Azog’s order.” Bilbo continued. “Apparently he was at the wrong place at the wrong time and saw one of our more...delicate orders getting shipped. According to Azog, it required his immediate elimination.”

Smaug’s eyes narrowed. He knew as well as Bilbo that there was no such thing as ‘wrong place at the wrong time’ in Azog’s immaculate planning. Most people took him for a simple brute, but there was much more to him than just cruelty and he hadn’t gained his position by ruthlessness only. If Frerin Durinsson was dead, then it was because Azog had wanted him dead.

If he had only known, if he had kept his eyes open and seen that Azog’s newest recruit had been Thorin Durinsson’s brother...but likely not even the young man himself had known what he had gotten himself into and who exactly had been behind those new exciting ventures that he had been a part of.

“Find out more about the circumstances.” Smaug ordered Bilbo calmly. Bilbo Baggins almost had pity with Azog at this moment, but only almost. If Smaug decided that Azog had acted on his own accord and against his interest, he would not hesitate to punish him in the ways he thought necessary.

“Yes sir.” Bilbo inclined his head again. Gandalf would have ordered him the same anyway; all the better if he could carry out Smaug’s order in the same breath.

“Anything about Durinsson himself?” From the amount of emotion he showed, Smaug could as well have asked if his carpet was back from the dry cleaners yet.

“No.” Bilbo had met Thorin only once and very briefly. He doubted very much that the member of Thranduil’s unit would in fact remember him. “The funeral will be held in a week. He hasn’t yet shown any signs that he possesses the documents in question.”

Always the dreaded documents. If there was one thing that Bilbo had ever seen Smaug show vague signs of discomfort about apart from the discovery of aphids on his plants was the mention of those documents that supposedly existed in a forgotten place somewhere in or around Boston. Even Bilbo wasn’t sure that they even truly existed, although if they did, he had to admit that they were the only thing that could truly prove a danger to Smaug and all those working for him. If Thorin Durinsson’s late uncle and grandfather had indeed managed to dig up information and hints that Smaug truly existed, all hell would break loose.

Bilbo didn’t like thinking about those documents; they always made him painfully aware of what he personally considered his biggest misdeed in his undercover career. He remembered the conversation with Gandalf well; how he had almost refused to relate the information about the raid in the _Pinecone_ to both Azog and Smaug, saying that he would not be responsible for sending an entire SWAT unit to what might well have been their deaths. The old man, however, had insisted on the _Greater Good_ and how such information would let Bilbo rise in the trust of Smaug and help their fight immeasurably. Both he and Bilbo, however, had been more than distressed to find out what had truly happened during the raid. Strange how so many of the things pressing down on Bilbo’s conscience seemed to be related to the Durinsson family.

Smaug showed a hint of satisfaction at Bilbo’s announcement that the files in question were still undiscovered and, presumably, non-existent.

“Good. Keep an eye on Durinsson and the unit. I want to be informed about every change.”

“I will.” Smaug nodded at Bilbo’s affirmative answer and indicated that their short conversation had ended.

Bilbo was more than grateful to leave the presence of the most dangerous man he knew. He always thought the air was a bit fresher than usual when he stepped out of his room, never noticing how an invisible weight seemed to press down on his chest whenever he was in Smaug’s presence. He sometimes forgot just how dangerous the game he was playing as a double agent truly was and those situations more than reminded him of it. Bilbo shuddered slightly, but he thought of Frerin Durinsson, dead in a small back alley, and the resolve within him hardened. He was a Baggins of Bag End, after all, son of the infamous Belladonna Took, and he would do his best to see this through.

*

Dís Durinsson had been on too many funerals. Her uncle and grandfather, her husband and now her brother – they seemed to blur all into one in her head until she wanted to close her eyes and scream. Thorin was standing next to her, their shoulders almost touching and he felt both further away and closer than in years. Dwalin was next to him, his large presence calming in its own right despite the sadness on his face. Dís remembered well enough how fond he had become of Frerin during their countless movie nights and occasional restaurant visits together. Frerin had quasi accepted him as family member already.

Fíli and Kíli were close too, faces stricken as they tried to come to terms with their uncle's death, the funeral reminding especially Fíli of their own father's funeral. Dís watched as her mother was crying freely, remembering with a sting in her heart that she knew what it meant to lose a brother and father. And now her son, too...

Only her father seemed to remain relatively unfazed, although it had always been hard to read him. There was no telling what was going on behind his eyes. Thorin, however - she knew her brother far too well to be misled by his apparent calm. She knew that, once the period of calmness was over, he would start to get fuelled by an unstoppable wrath to catch his brother's murderers. Just like he could barely be restrained when his uncle and grandfather had been killed. Dís just hoped that Dwalin had enough strength left to keep him from destroying himself, because she knew she didn't. Not this time.

She felt her thoughts moving away from the conversations of the people around her, dwelling on the many memories she had of the one she still referred to as her 'baby brother' in her mind. Frerin had always been the one with the weirdest ideas, the loudest laugh and the cheekiest grin of the three of them. Forever tormenting their parents with his indecisiveness of what he wanted to do with his future, he had always been hungry for what life had to offer. He had been the one who had offered to keep watch over her two sons when she was working all day just so that she could keep her job; he had been the one whose shoulder she had cried on the most when everything had become too much and the pain of missing her husband and having to bring up her children on her own had hurt too fiercely.

The sensation that Frerin was gone was so alien that she couldn't fully comprehend it. She still didn't think of him in the past tense - as if he just were on a long journey and due to return every moment. Dís longed to talk to her brother about it, longed to share her grief, but she knew that Thorin had always been one to withdraw deep inside himself in face of death or tragedy. Maybe he would open himself more to Dwalin and, subsequently, her.

The thought ripped her out of the stream her mind had carried her away on and led it back to the people surrounding her. Most of those attending were friends of Frerin's and a few colleagues. She vaguely recognised many of them from Frerin's vivid tales about his work and spare time and the random photos he had liked to send her in the middle of the night. There was only one man who she didn't recognise - small, middle-aged, more than half a head shorter than her and with a mop of blond hair on his head. For some reason his appearance stuck her as slightly out of place, although the man himself seemed to be pleasant enough, politely making conversation with people and smiling at their jokes even if they weren't funny.

"Thorin." She touched her brother's arm to get his attention.

He turned around from where he had quietly been standing next to Dwalin. Dís felt her heart drop when she looked into his eyes; both Thorin and Dwalin looked like they hadn't slept properly in days, which was likely true. With a small gesture she indicated the man she had noticed earlier.

"Do you know him?" Thorin frowned at her question.

"I don't think so, no. Could be one of Frerin's friends from the restaurant."

Dís shook her head.

"No. I've seen most of them and I don't think he was amongst them." Thorin's frown deepened and Dís saw a suspicious glint flare up in the depth of his eyes. She shot a glance at Dwalin who had noticed it, too, and was only too familiar with Thorin's temper. He put a hand on Thorin's arm, just in case he would dash off and try to confront the man in a less than polite manner.

"I'll talk to him." Dís offered and after a moment, Thorin relaxed and gave her a brief nod.

She took a deep breath and walked over to the unknown man, forcing a smile on her face as she greeted him.

"Bilbo Baggins." he introduced himself. The name was unfamiliar to Dís, but so were many others that she had heard that day.

"Dís Durinsson." she replied, offering her hand. His grip was firm, although not so strong as to assert dominance. Dís still didn't know what to make of him. He seemed exceedingly polite and perfectly normal on the one hand, but on the other there was something in his eyes that made her cautious.

"Ah. You're Frerin's sister? My deepest condolences." His grief sounded sincere and Dís accepted his words with a nod.

"And you are...?" she inquired with what she hoped was a friendly and polite tone.

"Oh, I am an acquaintance of Frerin's. I used to eat a lot at the restaurant where he worked and we talked from time to time. Heard about his death in the newspaper...such a terrible incident, was it not?"

"Yes. Yes it was." Dís could feel her throat suddenly closing up. Unlike Thorin she had been lucky enough not to have seen her brother's corpse, although in a way it had made the entire situation even more surreal since the last she remembered of Frerin was his wave as after they had hugged and said goodbye the week before. But to sit through the police questioning her about her brother's life had been almost more than she had been able to stomach.

Bilbo cleared his throat, obviously slightly at a loss of what to say.

"I'm sorry." he finally brought out again and there was an undertone in his voice that suggested the words had more meaning to them than simple condolences.

"Thank you." Dís managed.

The conversation then moved away from her brother's death and to Bilbo's and her own line of work - according to his own words, Bilbo worked as a grocer in a small store he owned in one of the city's suburbs. When Dís returned to Thorin she had the distinct feeling that Bilbo had told her basically nothing about his life whilst managing to extract much more personal information from herself. What a curious man, she thought. And how curious that Frerin had never told her about him.

Her eyes fell on Thorin again and the way he never strayed far from Dwalin and herself, as if his partner's presence and her own were the only thing that kept him from falling. They had more immediate matter to worry about than a middle-aged man who may or may not have been Frerin's friend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally planned to post this as a second Christmas present but this turned out slightly too angsty/heavy to do so, uhm. So here, have it now! 
> 
> Please note that this chapter isn't an easy read and contains slight gore, PTSD and slight anxiety attacks (Thorin is basically falling apart). I hope you'll still enjoy it though ;).

The days after Frerin’s death had been agony. Thorin wandered through them as if dazed and half-dreaming. He felt entirely numb, as if a part of him had detached itself and was watching him as he went through his daily routines. He had insisted on going to work although neither Dwalin nor Thranduil had been happy with his decision. Maybe a part of him still believed that if he acted like nothing had happened, things would somehow go back to how they were before. Of course such a belief was foolish – but his mind still refused to acknowledge the enormity of the loss he had suffered.

He caught himself dialling Frerin’s number on his phone and then being violently jerked back into reality when an automatic voice told him that the number didn’t exist anymore. When he didn’t pay attention, he still talked about him in present tense, often stopping in the middle of a sentence when he realised his mistake.

Dwalin didn’t treat him like a fragile boy like many of his colleagues at work and for that, Thorin was thankful. Especially Dori kept hovering around him with a worried look on his face and the constant offer to talk. But it was as if Frerin’s death had erected a wall between them, one that both of them were hesitant to approach. Dwalin offered his comfort and gave it whenever Thorin asked for it, but he never realised just how much the offer itself already meant to Thorin, even when he wasn’t taking him up on it. Dís was another story – his sister had always been grieving differently than him. Where he tended to withdraw and shut himself off from his environment and what he had lost, Dís treated it a lot more openly – she would talk about Frerin a lot, remember him with all she had and mourn him openly with every fibre of her being. Thorin just hoped that her mother and Fíli and Kíli could be a better support to her than he was at the moment.

The worst moment came when his colleagues from the homicide unit insisted on questioning him about his brother’s murder. He left it to Dís to give them access to Frerin’s apartment, but when they offered to visit him in the confines of his own home, he declined. Thorin preferred the much less personal space of his own office, especially if it meant that he could escape Thranduil’s and Dori’s eyes on him.

He thought he had held up fairly well, considering all circumstances – he answered all the questions they posed with as much accuracy as he was able to, even when they took apart Frerin’s last phone call to him word by word. However, they refused to share any of their eventual findings with him to the point where Thorin’s already thinly-worn patience snapped completely. If the officers hadn’t withdrawn by themselves, there was no saying what Thorin would have done. Thranduil rebuked him sternly after the meeting, telling him that if such a thing occurred one more time he would personally force Thorin to take the last days of holiday he still had on his account. Thorin couldn’t care less.

That evening he allowed Dwalin to embrace him without a word, closing his eyes and sinking back into his arms, letting his partner’s warmth envelop him and chip away at at least part of the ice that seemed to have formed around his soul.

The day of the funeral was the worst of all of them so far – Thorin went through it like in a daze, as if he was watching himself from a point outside his own body. Dís and Dwalin were always close to him with Fíli and Kíli hovering not far behind and in a distant corner of his mind he was grateful for their presence, sure that without them, he would not have made it through the day. It was on the way home that it truly hit him. A silly thing – the sight of an earthenware tea pot in a shop window prompted the thought that it would make a perfect birthday present for Frerin – until the thought that Frerin would never again celebrate _any_ birthdays suddenly penetrated the fog in his mind.

Thorin stopped dead in his tracks.

“Thorin?” Dwalin turned around and walked up to him.

“He’s dead.” Thorin whispered. “Frerin’s _dead_.”

Dwalin’s face softened at his reply. He knew the feeling, the moment of realisation that descended on you like a sledge hammer, had experienced it himself before when his parents had died. Hesitating, he put his arm around Thorin’s shoulder, waiting if he would shrug out of his grasp. Thorin remained still, however, and after a moment all life seemed to leave him and he slumped against Dwalin’s side. Dwalin tightened his hold around his shoulders for a moment before he nudged him gently.

“Let’s get home.” he said softly.

Thorin still looked numbed, but after a brief moment of hesitation he nodded, drawing his coat closer around himself and stepping out of Dwalin’s embrace with an apologetic glance at him. The rest of they way home they covered in silence, although Thorin was walking closer to Dwalin than before when he had looked into the window of the shop.

Once back at their home Thorin remained quiet, just like he had done the night his brother had died and most of the evenings since. Something, however, had shifted in his silence, no longer excluding his partner from it and Thorin didn’t object when Dwalin sat down on the sofa next to him, offering his body for him to lean against. Thorin felt the exhaustion, emotional as well as physical, catch up with him and dozed off rather quickly, huddled into Dwalin’s side. He barely noticed when Dwalin manoevered him back into their bed, already fast asleep by the time his head touched the pillow.

 

*

 

Frerin was in his dreams again. His brother had been there every night since he had died, tormenting him in his sleep with frightened, accusing eyes and blood running down his face from where the bullets had entered his head, pleading for help even though he was already dead.

Thorin screamed but he was unable to move, unable to do anything. He wanted to look away, avert his eyes from what he was seeing, but fingers were digging into his scalp, grabbing his hair and preventing any movement. Someone was laughing behind him and he tensed up even more, Azog’s voice ringing in his head. Fear spread through him and prevented every clear thought, pain blossoming in his knee and making him scream once again.

Azog’s voice was everywhere, in his head, in his body, around him, inside him. “ _Where is it_?” it whispered and Thorin couldn’t speak, couldn’t _breathe_ as old scars flared up in pain and he could feel the blood running down his skin, into his mouth, choking him. Frerin was still there, the flesh falling of his face and empty sockets crawling with white where his eyes should have been.

_Help me, Brother._

No sound escaped Thorin, no noise loud or desperate enough to force its way past his horror and guilt. And then Frerin transformed again, his decaying features turning into Dís, Dís whose eyes were empty, whose body was disintegrating into blood and pieces of bone and skin as she was holding her dead boys pressed to her chest.

Thorin willed himself to move, but his limbs were stone and his body was cold and the hand jerking his head upright did not relinquish its grip on his hair and he was forced to see, forced to watch as Dís turned into Dwalin, blood on his lips and bubbling from his open throat even as he crumpled to the ground. Thorin jerked in the grip of invisible people, but he still couldn’t move, there were fingers and metal on his skin, hands in his hair, he couldn’t get away, he couldn’t help, he-

Dwalin woke up in the middle of the night with the distinct feeling that something was wrong. It was the same feeling of wrongness that had trustily ripped him out of his sleep every time Thorin had had a nightmare in the early days after the incident at the _Pinecone_ , only stronger. Almost automatically he extended his hand to Thorin’s side of the bed to soothe him, but after a few seconds of fruitless searching he knew his partner wasn’t there. The realisation doused him like icewater and he was fully awake within moments.

“Thorin?”

He now saw that there was light coming from under the bathroom door and the sound of someone retching. With a frown on his face Dwalin climbed out of the bed, making his way to the bathroom door in the darkness. He knocked on the door, hoping his Thorin would let him in.

“Thorin?” he asked again.

There was no reply. Instead the toilet was flushed, water was running, and, after a moment of silence, a drawer was opened and there was the sound of rummaging in it. The feeling of uneasiness inside Dwalin’s stomach doubled. Something was definitely wrong.

“Thorin, I’m coming in.” he announced, hoping it was the right decision to make. Grateful that his partner hadn’t locked it, he slowly opened the door to their bathroom, stomach coiled in fear of what he would find.

Thorin was standing in front of the mirror, breathing fast and flatly, eyes wide and staring sightlessly at his own reflection. One of his trembling hands was holding a small pair of scissors, the other a strand of his own hair that he had been about to cut off. A quick glance at the floor showed Dwalin that he had already severed two strands, their dark shapes curling on the ground like dying worms caught up in the last waves of their agony.

Dwalin stepped forwards, reaching out to take the scissors from Thorin’s hand, but his partner flinched at the movement, retreating a few steps into the room as his eyes fell on Dwalin.

“No.” Thorin rasped, his voice brittle like burnt stone. “No, please, don’t-“

Dwalin thought he could feel his heart crack at the amount of utter _fear_ in Thorin’s voice, wanting nothing more than to embrace him and keep him safe. He heeded his wish, however, and stepped away, leaving Thorin room enough not to feel cornered.

“Would you like me to get out?” he asked softly, keeping his eyes fixed on Thorin’s face. Thorin shook his head, slowly, as if the simple movement alone had cost him all energy.

“No. Talk to me. Anything. Please, talk to me...” Dwalin didn’t know what pictures he had seen inside his dreams, what phantoms had made him believe that cutting his hair was a way to escape the trap of his own mind. He did know, however, that he would give his best to disperse them and if was his voice that Thorin wanted to hear, then he would keep talking until he had no words left.

And so he spoke.

He spoke of how one of his orchids was doing badly and what kind of remedy there could be for it. Of how the pair of woollen socks Thorin had given him for Christmas a few years ago already had a set of holes in it and how he was determined to learn how to darn them so he could keep using them. He told Thorin that he had always trouble finding a certain book on their bookshelf because he still hadn’t gotten behind Thorin’s system of sorting them. He mentioned that Fíli’s birthday was coming around soon and that they still didn’t have a present for him.

As he was talking, the trembling of Thorin’s hands slowly stilled and his breathing evened out again until the scissors finally clattered on the tiles of the bathroom floor. His hands sank down at his sides and with a moan he leaned on the edge of the sink, head tilting forwards until the dark strands of his hair were obscuring the features of his face.

“Thorin?” Dwalin asked softly, not sure what he should be doing.

There was no answer for a few seconds and when Thorin finally spoke, his voice was still rough and several shades deeper than normal. Dwalin knew how much it cost him to say those words as someone who, as a rule, almost never talked about what was going on inside him.

“I thought if I cut it off they couldn’t hold me back any longer and nobody would die.” It took Dwalin a moment to relate the words to what had been happening and that something must have occurred in Thorin’s dream which had been related to his actions earlier.

“But it’s all a ruse, isn’t it?” Bitterness had crept into Thorin’s voice, a tone of self-loathing that hurt even more than then fear that Dwalin had heard in it earlier. “I can’t even protect my own family. Neither Regar, nor Finn, nor Joni, not even my own brother.”

Dwalin stood up from where the closed toilet seat that he had been sitting on for the past hour and took a step closer to Thorin, waiting if his partner would tell him to stay away from him again. Thorin finally turned his head, his face still gray and somehow sickly under the artificial light of the bathroom and deep rings under his eyes. He was, however, looking at Dwalin, truly _looking_ at him, the blue of his eyes gone as dark as the lightless depths of the ocean.

“Neither of those deaths were your fault. And I’m still here.” Dwalin reminded him softly. “And so are Dís and Fíli and Kíli.”

He stepped closer once again and Thorin didn’t withdraw at his approach, taking a deep breath instead. There was obviously a lot that Thorin still wanted to say and Dwalin would be unable to soothe his fears completely.

“Yes.”

It was the only answer he brought out in the end before crossing the last foot of distance towards Dwalin and letting himself be drawn into a gentle embrace. Thorin was still shaking, obviously not in any form or shape close to okay. Dwalin softly pressed a kiss into Thorin’s hair, feeling Thorin’s hands come up and grab the fabric of his nightshirt, leaning into his arms and holding on as if Dwalin was the last thing in an ocean of darkness that kept him from drowning.

“Thorin...” Dwalin hated himself for what he was saying next, but he knew he had to. “You need to promise me something.”

The words sounded almost cliché, but they were important even if Thorin might not realise it.

“Promise me you’ll call Dori tomorrow and talk to him. You can’t go on like this.”

Thorin tensed up in his arms and slowly drew away. The movement sent a pang of hurt through Dwalin’s soul, but he let it happen.

“Please, Thorin.” he added quietly. He didn’t add that otherwise he would likely do it himself – call their counsellor and tell him about what had happened this night. He had always known that the events with Azog a few years ago had left a much deeper scar in Thorin’s mind than his partner would ever like to admit but he had hoped that time would have helped to soothe the ragged edges. Evidently it hadn’t and now that Frerin’s death had slashed so violently into their lives it had opened up older wounds too and left them bleeding.

Thorin didn’t reply, but busied himself with getting a small broom and getting rid of the hair on the tiles beneath their feet. Once he had finished the task there was nothing else to do, Dwalin still standing in the cold light of the bathroom and watching him, helpless as to what else to do or say. Thorin needed help, more help than he could give him, as much as it hurt to admit.

Thorin’s skin was icy when they climbed back into bed and he was still shivering slightly. He let Dwalin wrap his arms around him to warm him up, pressing slightly closer to his partner after a moment and waiting for the knot in his soul to disappear.

“I’ll make the call tomorrow.” he finally said, very quietly, and Dwalin almost missed it.

“Thank you.” he replied softly and kissed Thorin’s neck. Thorin just gave a quiet huff and intertwined their fingers.

 

*

 

There were a lot of things Thranduil hated.

People being late, for example. Or hot breakfast. Or unironed shirts. Most of all, however, he hated unannounced phone calls interrupting his carefully planned daily routine.

As such he was staring at his telephone for a solid thirty seconds before finally picking up. When he recognised the caller’s voice he almost put the phone back down again.

“Gandalf.” he sighed. Only few people dared to address the old man with his first name, but Thranduil felt that he had earned it, having seen his fair share of the old meddler’s works and having spent quite some time with him.

“Thranduil!” Gandalf sounded always so _cheery_. It was another thing Thranduil was annoyed by. “How’s the family? Your son still throwing tantrums when he’s supposed to eat broccoli?”

“Yes.” Thranduil made a point of leaving it open which question his answer was relating to. “What’s the purpose of your call?”

Gandalf’s voice turned serious from one moment to the other.

“I need to talk to Durinsson.”

“ _Again_?” Thranduil rubbed his face, feeling weariness and the beginning of a headache seep through his bones. “The investigation unit for his brother’s death talked to him for hours last week already and he wasn’t exactly in great shape afterwards. Do you really think it’s necessary to stir all of that up again?”

That he personally rather disliked Thorin didn’t mean that he wasn’t feeling _some_ sort of compassion for what his officer was going through.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Gandalf sounded slightly impatient now. “We have reason to believe that Azog is somehow connected to the murder. It might be our best chance at catching him since the _Pinecone_. This is _important_ , as I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes.” Thranduil gritted out between his teeth. “I know. Do we at least have any leads on Smaug as well?”

“No.” Now it was Gandalf’s turn to be annoyed. “Nothing. We are sure he exists but he’s more elusive than a wisp of smoke in the air.”

“You’ve been hunting him for several decades, Gandalf, and still you have _nothing_?” He knew he was out of place with his comment, but Thranduil couldn’t help himself. He had known Gandalf since he had joined the police force many years ago and seen the toll the old man’s struggle had taken on him and everyone surrounding him and under his command.

“We will find something eventually.” Gandalf’s optimism was truly astonishing. “Now, about Durinsson...”

Thranduil sighed, knowing fully well he had evaded the topic and that Gandalf’s still sharp mind had obviously picked up on it. Sometimes he wished he could just have a moment’s respite and _not_ think about all the trouble brewing in the background. He told Gandalf he would talk to Thorin about the best time for another interview and left it at that. Or maybe he should leave this task to Balin...he might be able to pass on the news through his brother. After a moment he banished those thoughts from his mind, shaking his head. He was no such coward that he would others do the work for him.

He could only hope that Gandalf would at least _try_ and be tactful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joni, by the way, was Dís husband :).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back folks! This chapter for some reason involves a lot of people shouting at each other (warning: swearing and bad language!) and Nori. FINALLY.

Nori rubbed tiredly at his eyes. Yes, he loved his job, but being a freelancing journalist didn’t exactly make for regular working hours. With a sigh he returned to look at his screen, the empty document on it facing him with what he thought was a rather reproachful tone of white. He had a deadline tomorrow and although it was only 7pm he was sure that he would likely be up all night writing again. He felt even more tired just _thinking_ about it.

Just as he had finally thought about a good first sentence his phone rang. Nori cursed loudly, the perfect words having escaped his mind the moment his concentration was broken. With an angry glare at his phone and the number on the display he picked up.

“ _YES_.”

“Nori? Did I interrupt something?”

Nori rolled his eyes at his brother’s voice.

“Only the writing of the article that’s supposed to feed me next month. What’s the matter?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The problem with Dori was that he genuinely _meant_ his apology, but would then forge on as if nothing had happened.

“It’s about Ori.”

Nori immediately felt himself calming down a little. They both knew that Ori was by far his weakest point; he would do almost _anything_ to see his little brother safe and happy.

“Has anything happened?” He couldn’t quite hide the worried tone creeping into his voice and cursed himself. Dori knew how much Ori meant to him; there was still no need to sound like a worried granny though. Although, in all fairness, their own mother would likely never have been as bad as him were she still alive.

“No no, he’s fine.” Nori breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“I’m too, by the way, thanks for asking.” Dori couldn’t quite keep himself from adding, with a slightly acidic tone in his voice.

“As am I.” Nori couldn’t help but reply. Then he groaned. Sometimes he actually enjoyed the childish banter with his brother, but today wasn’t one of those days. “Look, Dori, I’m sorry, but I’m having one hell of a day, so just tell me what’s up.”

He thought he could hear Dori’s exasperated sigh through the line before he talked again. At least Dori was wise enough to let the subject rest for now.

“Right. You know it’s his first real day at work at the MOP headquarters headquarters next week, yes? I thought we could maybe get him a little present or something.”

Oh, yes. Nori felt bad, but he had truly almost forgotten about it. Ori had done an internship at the same station a few years back and greatly enjoyed himself there, even though his tasks seemed to be mainly in the office rather than anywhere else. Apparently he had done his job well since a few months ago he had received a job offer from Balin, Thranduil’s and therefore the chief’s second-in-command. Ori hadn’t hesitated for too long before accepting – he had always liked the people in the MOP headquarters and the working atmosphere there.

“What kind of present were you thinking of?” Long experience had taught Nori that, in most cases, Dori had already made a dozen different plans and set everything in motion and the only thing he needed from Nori was his agreement and, sometimes, his help.

“Nothing big. Just a pair of new shirts for the office and a new scarf...” Dori sounded unreasonably excited and Nori bit off a groan at the last possible moment. He was sure that the gifts were perfectly reasonable, but that was the problem, Dori was always so _reasonable_. It wasn’t the first time that Nori privately thought his big brother needed a bit more fun in his life rather than constantly fussing over his younger siblings. Anyway, there was no swaying his opinion now.

“That sounds...great.” Nori replied with a sigh. “Shall I come by the morning you’re going to give them to him?”

“That would be nice of you, thanks.” Of course Dori _knew_ that he would come by, no matter what. Well, at least he could get something of his own in the mean time and give it to Ori then.

“Okay, I’ll be there then. 7am?”

“Sounds good. See you next week then!” Dori sounded unreasonably cheerful about the prospect of seeing his brother again. Nori sighed again and put the phone back on the table. After a moment he pulled out a piece of paper and wrote ‘ _get gift for Ori_ ’ down on it, hoping both his siblings would never catch him doing so. It wouldn’t do to have them make make jokes about his age. Fact was that he couldn’t remember everything as well as he wanted anymore and he’d rather write things down than forget them.

Now, back to his article.

He had just typed the first four words when his phone rang again.

“Argh!” With an angry shout Nori grabbed it and was half-tempted to just throw it on the ground or simply pretend he wasn’t _there_ , especially when there was no caller identification shown on the display. But it could be someone asking him to do another job. So, for the sake of his income and his cat’s continued survival he needed to take this.

“Nori Olufsson, yes?”

“Hey. Thorin here.” Nori felt his eyebrows shoot up as he heard the name. They knew each other, yes, but mostly through Nori’s siblings nowadays, even though he and Dwalin had been fairly close for a while. He had helped Thorin once before, but that was more than a decade in the past when they had both been much younger and inexperienced. And he could only hope that Dwalin hadn’t told him too much about the ‘adventures’ he’d had with Nori in the past. Friends with benefits, indeed.

“Thorin? Nice to hear from you. How are you?” The last sentence slipped out of him without thinking and Nori almost bit his tongue. It wasn’t exactly a great question to ask three weeks after the death of Thorin’s brother.

“Fine.” The answer was completely non-committal and, at the same time, completely untrue. Thorin sounded incredibly tired. Or, no, _tired_ wasn’t exactly the right word. _Weary_. As if he were dragging himself along with dozens of weights holding him down.

“Listen, Nori...do you still have those contacts over at the Homicide Unit?”

Nori furrowed his brow. He didn’t like the direction this was heading.

“Uhm, yeah. Why?”

“Could you find out something about an investigation for me?” When Nori didn’t reply Thorin hurried to add: “I’ll pay you, of course.” Nori sighed.

“This isn’t really about money, Thorin. And I know exactly which investigation you mean. Remember, I’ve done it once for you before and it was an absolute _disaster_ , I hope you remember that.”

There was a moment of silence at the other end of the line that told him that Thorin remembered only too well.

“That was more than ten years ago, Nori.” Thorin said quietly, his voice sounding even more exhausted. Frerin’s death had to remind him of his uncle’s and grandfather’s, Nori was sure. Back then Thorin had almost been thrown out of his job for putting his nose where it didn’t belong and trying to investigate his relatives’ death. Somehow he had gotten wind of Nori and his job and asked him to investigate in his stead. Nori, however, just at the beginning of his career, had been found out soon enough and the only reason he hadn’t ended up with entire reputation destroyed had been because of Dori’s intervention. He still both loved and hated his brother for having stepped in back then.

“I know. But I’m not going to do it again, Thorin, sorry.”

There was a sigh at the other end of the line, as if Thorin was incredibly disappointed. Or trying to hold back his anger.

“I’ve already had a disagreement with Thranduil over the matter and Chief Tharkun has forbidden me to even get in contact with anyone from Homicide again. They’re watching Dwalin too. Please, Nori.”

Nori had a small inkling of what it must have cost Thorin to say those last two words. He had never been one to beg or even ask a favour lightly and Nori disliked how Thorin’s words were already turning on the little gears in his mind, mulling over names and contacts and all the new ways of getting information he had found since they had both been a whole lot younger.

It was true that he knew more than one officer in the Homicide Unit and he sure as hell could use the money. But Azog was a matter that nobody in the police liked to talk about; his continued freedom was almost taken like a personal affront by some, for example Chief Tharkun. And if both Gandalf and Thranduil had already told Thorin to leave the matter alone...

The worst was that he could already feel himself being drawn to the challenge. _Reckless_ , Dori would say now, _and stupid_. But then, that was exactly the point, wasn’t it. That he was _different_ from his big brother.

“Alright. “

There was an audibly relieved sigh at the other end of the line.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Nori replied absent-mindedly, scratching his head. He was already deep in thought about who to call and what to do next so he could cope with Thorin’s request. “I’ll see you at some point next week? I wanted to come and visit Ori at his new workplace anyway, so we could as well talk.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Right, see you then. Bye.”

Only when the line disconnected Nori remembered that they hadn’t even talked about the money.

*

A day earlier Dwalin had just put his Harley back into the garage of their headquarters when he remembered that his and Thorin’s shift times were overlapping today. He hoped that his partner was almost done with whatever had been his task for the day. As he checked the state of his vehicle and got changed, he thought about the weeks that had passed.

Much to Dwalin’s surprise Thorin had actually kept his promise and disappeared into Dori’s room towards the end of his shift the day after his nocturnal breakdown. He didn’t talk about anything that had transpired in there and Dwalin didn’t ask, but his meetings with their team’s counsellor had continued steadily since then. Dwalin could only hope that it helped even if most changes that he noticed were marginal, for example Thorin slowly accepting more physical contact again or the strange intensity with which he seemed to be brooding over documents lately.

“I’m not a magician.” Dori told him one day.”If I could snap my fingers and make everything alright with a single session or two or some kind of miracle medication, I would. But that’s just not how it works, sorry.”

Dwalin had just nodded and thanked him anyway. He knew that Dori was right, of course, even though sometimes it was hard to accept. Not because he would ever feel that Thorin was a burden - he only wished he could keep his partner safe from everything his mind was throwing at him.

Thorin had been told to expect a second interview with the people from Homicide a good two weeks after the first one had taken place. Dwalin wished they would allow him to be there too, but he’d had his own share of questioning by his colleagues already (“No, Frerin didn’t try to call Thorin beforehand that night”, “Yes, I’m sure of that even though I had alcohol”, “No I didn’t hear what Frerin was saying”, “I already told you, he didn’t try to call me either and I have no idea who he met that night!” and so on) and especially the head of the small unit named Bard had made it clear that he didn’t want any disturbance during his other interviews.

Bard and his colleagues arrived at the same moment Dwalin walked up the stairs to the offices and so he resolved to wait for Thorin so they could make their way home together.

Only half an hour after the officers from the homicide unit had entered the room there was a shout and Thorin stormed out, banging the door shut behind him with full force. His eyes were blazing with rage and for a moment Dwalin was absurdely grateful for this outbreak of emotion, so at odds with the weariness of the last few weeks since Frerin’s death.

“Those _bastards_.” he hissed. “Telling me my brother was assocatied with Azog and having the fucking _balls_ to ask me whether I knew about it or whether I _used my own little brother_ to get closer to him. Frerin would never- I wouldn’t-“

With a frustrated snarl he interrupted his own angry ranting, running his hand repeatedly through his hair.

“Wait.” Dwalin replied slowly. “Say that again. Frerin was associated with Azog?”

“No he **_WASN’T_**!” Thorin shouted the last words and suddenly all other conversations around them went quiet. Ori looked positively shell-shocked and for a moment Dwalin felt sorry for him. He was also pretty sure that Thorin didn’t and that he would have broken something if there had been anything close enough to grab and throw.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Dwalin raised his hands, hoping it would serve to help Thorin calm down. “Now tell me again.”

“Not here.” His partner replied with a look at their colleagues who were all staring at them by now. Especially Dori, who was looking out of his own little office, brow furrowed in worry. Dwalin nodded, having to agree with Thorin.

They were just about to head home when the door to Thranduil’s office opened and their chief’s gaze landed on them.

“Durinsson!” he barked, his voice making it clear that whatever he had to say, it wouldn’t be anything positive.

“Chief.” Thorin answered the call through his teeth, fingers clenched so tightly at his side that his knuckles were shining white.

“In my office, Durinsson, now.” Thranduil shot a last glance at him before he retreated back into his room again, leaving the door open for Thorin to walk through.

“As if I were some kind of bloody _dog_ he can call whenever he wants something.”During better times Dwalin would have made some kind of jest about begging Thorin not to kill Thranduil now, but as it was the hot rage in Thorin’s eyes did wonders to help him restrain his tongue.

“Go. I’ll wait for you.” he told him instead, sounding calmer than he felt. His own temper had risen at Thranduil’s treatment of one of his best officers.

If Thorin’s heels had spikes in them he would have punched holes into the ground as he walked over to his chief’s office, the door slamming shut behind him. Dwalin turned around to walk to his desk – if he had to stay here for a while longer he could as well get some paperwork done.

“Dwalin, a word with you.”

Behind him was his brother, frowning as he looked at Thranduil’s office door. Dwalin was sure that it would only be a matter of seconds before one of the two men inside would start shouting.

Balin nodded at the door to the meeting room that was now empty again since the people from homicide had left. He shut the door behind them as soon as they had both stepped inside.

“Is this about Thorin?” Dwalin asked wearily. He loved his brother, but one thing he couldn’t stand was when Balin tried to meddle in their affairs.

“No. Yes. Not in the way you think.”

Dwalin growled, his own patience wearing thin. Balin only shot him a sharp glance and he bit his tongue. Better let his brother say his piece. At least Balin had, despite his rather considerable diplomatic skill, the tendency to be rather direct when he had to be.

“He’s been starting his own investigation about his brother’s death and Homicide caught wind of it. He can be happy if Thranduil doesn’t suspend him.“ Dwalin took a moment to process what Balin had just said. Suddenly all those evenings that Thorin had spent in front of his laptop or intensly muttering over a few sheets of paper made sense.

He cursed with a few colourful words that made his brother’s eyebrows go up.

“Dwalin.” Balin said harshly. “I need to know. _Were you aware of this_?”

“No, god fucking damn it, I was _not_.” The irony that he was sounding pretty much like Thorin earlier when he had been defending Frerin didn’t escape him. Balin nodded, but it was clear he didn’t believe him. At least he let the matter rest for now.

“Good. But you have to take care of him, Dwalin, you have to make him _see_ -“

“I don’t have to do _anything_ , Balin. I’m not his fucking nanny. He knows what he’s doing.” A small voice inside his head whispered that this wasn’t quite true, that Thorin was ill, but it wasn’t a matter that Dwalin was willing to discuss with his brother just here and now.

“I was just trying to warn you.” Balin replied angrily. For most people Thranduil’s second-in-command was a kind and loyal man, but Dwalin knew that there was quite a temper hiding behind his brother’s patience and something was warning him that he was periliously close to igniting it. When he was younger he had often enjoyed riling his brother up, but now was certainly neither the time nor the place.

“Thanks.” Dwalin couldn’t do anything against the anger hidden behind the sarcasm in his voice that seemed to grow by the minute. Loud shouts and another bang of a door being shut saved them both having to continue the conversation any longer and Dwalin stepped out of the room before Balin could say anything else.

Outside, Thorin was seething.

Thranduil probably too, judging from the crashing sounds in his office, but it looked like Thorin didn’t care at all. In fact, he looked like every wrong word could set him off again and Dwalin chose to have their argument at home, not here.

“Home?” he simply asked Thorin who nodded in reply.

They rode back in complete silence, both of them close to exploding. It was one of the most uncomfortable hours of Dwalin’s life. As soon as the door to their apartment shut behind him he turned around to Thorin who was taking off his leather jacket and throwing it on the sofa.

“So how bad is it?”

Thorin met his gaze, outwardly calm but almost every trace of warmth had vanished from the blue in his eyes.

“Balin told you.”

“Yes.”

“Two days. Thranduil told me to take off the next two days and then come back to work.” Thorin’s words were clipped and his voice was quivering with anger, but Dwalin couldn’t hide a relieved sigh. It could have been much worse.

“Thorin, what were you _thinking_?” he couldn’t help but ask.

It was the wrong question. His partner exploded.

“What was I thinking? I want to know who _fucking murdered my little brother_!” He was staring at him as if Dwalin had lost his mind.

“Yeah, but not behind Thranduil’s back! Or Tharkun’s, for that matter! Christ, Thorin, you could have lost your _job_ today!”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same for Balin.” Thorin said quietly.

“I-“ His remark caught Dwalin off guard. He didn’t even want to think about Balin dying. “That’s not the point.” he said sharply instead.

“It is. That’s _exactly_ the point.”

Dwalin ran rubbed his head with his hand, sighing frustratedly. Somewhere behind all his rage there was a calm voice telling him that there was no point to this argument and he knew it. Thorin knew it, too, even if he didn’t want to admit it at the moment.

“I’m going out to get some food.” he announced, taking the keys from where he had just dropped them. Maybe the walk would help him cool down. If he stayed here any longer he might end up throwing something against the wall and saying things that only rage could procur and that he would deeply regret later.

Thorin just stared after him, even after the door had long fallen shut again. Then he got himself a beer from the fridge and slumped down on the couch. Why didn’t anybody _understand_? Frerin was dead and it was his fault. The least he could do was to try and nail the bastards who had done it. If they’d just let him help – but no, during the first meeting Bard had already pointed out that they were in completely different units and he should let those do the work who ‘knew what they were doing’. Assholes, all of them.

With a frustrated shout he crumpled the empty beer can in his hand and threw it against the wall. Then he forced himself to think. If he did anything during those two days coming now he was as well as fired, Thranduil had told him that much. If there was only someone else he could ask...no, not Dwalin. Balin had likely told him to keep an eye on Thorin and even though he was sure that his partner would never betray him, it was better not to create any trouble for him. No. But there was someone else, someone he had already asked before...

He grabbed the phone and rummaged around until he had found their little booklet with contacts. Then he lifted his finger and dialled Nori’s number.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Ri sibling time in this chapter (and, of course, quality Dworin time). Yes, I love them, in case you were wondering. 
> 
> By the way, I totally forgot to mention it, but I put together a music mix for this as well! If you want to know which songs I listen to and which ones inspire me when I write, go [here](http://8tracks.com/saetha/no-place-for-a-hero) (and [here](http://heartoferebor.tumblr.com/post/104623720222/no-place-for-a-hero-modern-hobbit-au-mix) for the corresponding Tumblr post including the track list).

Ori was nervous.

It wasn't so much that he didn't know what was going to happen - he knew it perfectly well and, in theory, everything should be fine. That, however, was exactly the problem: _in theory_. In practise, lots of things could be going wrong, especially where the MPU was concerned. From his previous internship Ori knew that if there was one thing you could plan about the unit it was that you couldn't plan anything. One time a few years back the only scheduled task of the day for all unit members together had been a seminar in the afternoon about the newest bulletproof gear the department had finally managed to acquire from its suppliers with the blessing of Gandalf himself.

Instead of a quiet, possibly slightly boring afternoon in the seminar room, however, a call had come in shortly before 1pm that a major accident had happened on the highway outside the South Station Bus Terminal. Half of the team was out immediately and Thranduil had seen no point in conducting a seminar where only half of his group was actually present. So instead of setting up presentation equipment and listen to people talk Ori had been forced to do more filing again, much to his dismay. He loved his usual work of ensuring that the processes within the department ran smoothly and minding their own little archive, his affinity for order and logic finally coming to good use. However, if his entire day consisted only of filing...not even Balins's usually good mood and occasional encouraging comments could really chase away the dreariness of it.

From today on, however, he would be a _real_ member of the team. For a second excitement overwhelmed him completely and all he could think of was that he was finally doing a proper job, one where he earned his own money and was actually _useful_.

He looked over to his brothers who were standing next to him on the crowded train, almost shielding him from everybody else in the carriage and sighed internally. A few years ago he had finally understood just why his brothers were so incredibly protective, but that didn't change the fact that he often found it more than annoying. When would they finally understand that he wasn't a little boy anymore? He could only hope that today would help them in doing so, now that he was starting his own job, just like a mature adult was supposed to.

He hadn't told Dori about it yet, but he was planning on moving out as soon as he had saved up enough money. Ori knew that his brother wouldn't like it and would probably throw quite a tantrum when he heard about it, but it couldn't be helped. He finally wanted to start his own life, be independent. It didn't mean he'd never have to see his brothers again but he wasn't quite sure Dori would truly understand. Maybe Nori could help and convince him. Ori stole a glance at his second-oldest brother and frowned. No, probably not. It was much more likely that the two of them would end up shouting at each other again, with Ori caught helplessly in the middle like most of the time.

At least today the two of them seemed to be getting along fairly well, united in their pride of their youngest brother. There had been no shouting, no sly comments, not even any eye-rolling on Dori's part this morning when Nori had come in to visit. They had even presented him with some gifts and Ori had to admit that what they had come up with were actually rather sensible presents even if they were a little too much. He could certainly _use_ those shirts and that scarf from Dori though, as well as the new leather wallet Nori had given him, that much was undeniable.

The doors finally opened at their stop and Dori immediately started shouting at the crowd of people to let them through before they train would depart again. Ori mentally rolled his eyes, slightly embarrassed by his oldest brother, but he couldn't deny that his tactics actually worked - they jumped out on the platform just as the doors closed again behind them. He took a deep breath, glad to be out of the stuffy space of the train.

The walk to the MOP headquarters was filled with quiet conversation between the three of them and Nori relentlessly grilling Ori about the job he was starting. After the third time of him asking what exactly it was that he was going to be doing Ori just threw his hands in the air exasperatedly and told him that the tasks were changing from day to day and he simply _didn't know_. It almost turned into another family argument when Dori started defending him although he had asked the exact same thing ad infinitum the day before as Ori pointedly reminded him. Thankfully they arrived at the big grey building the same moment the brother's voices had started rising in volume and at least Ori didn't have to remind them to try and be civil inside in front of his new colleagues.

Most of them had already come, the main office alive with the buzz of their voices. Their chef was also already present, judging from the sound of him shouting on the phone to someone in his office, a noise that everyone tactfully pretended they couldn't hear. Tauriel and Dáin had driven the night shift together and were apparently filling in some paperwork before heading home to catch some well-deserved sleep. Dwalin had been part of their shift, too and he and Thorin were conversing quietly in a corner over two cups of coffee, one of them ready to go home and the other just starting his workday. Dori had, of course, told Ori about the argument at the station a week earlier although he hadn't truly known what it was about. He had only told Ori not to anger Thorin at the moment, for his temper seemed perilously short since his brother's death - something that Ori couldn't truly blame him for when he imagined the same thing happening to any of his own siblings.

Glóin was there, too, brows furrowed over some forms on his table. Other colleagues were just getting settled in and Ori was beginning to ask himself where his own workplace would be when Balin called out to him.

"Ori! Right on time, as I see. And you too, Dori." He hurried over to them and quickly shook Nori's and Dori's hands as well. "Nori, it has been a while! Nice to see you again."

He put a hand on Ori's shoulder and gently started steering him through the main office towards an empty table that was close to his own office door.

"Here, this is your new workplace, I hope you'll find everything in order and as you need it. We have our usual weekly Monday morning briefing in a few minutes, so get settled and just follow the others into the meeting room. I'll make an official introduction and then, well...we'll get started! Welcome at the MOP, Ori!"

Ori shook Balin's hand, the warm twinkling in the man's eyes making him feel a lot more at ease already. The rest of the morning seemed to pass incredibly fast and it felt like a haze to him. His new colleagues were all as friendly as he remembered, even Thorin making an effort to be nice to him and helping him whenever he had questions. Ori noticed the small limp in his walk and wondered whether the bad weather that had arrived with rain and storm by now was making his injury worse, but of course he didn't ask him.

Nori surprisingly stayed until after the briefing 'to see if you've settled in properly' as he explained to Ori. However, Ori suspected that his brother had other reasons to stay as well - after the meeting he saw him in an animated conversation with Thorin and the two of them stayed longer in the meeting room after everyone else had left and returned to their work stations.

When Thorin came out again he was frowning and hurried to his table to write down a few things before picking up his normal work again. Ori was burning to ask Nori what the two of them had been talking about, but his brother didn't look like he necessarily wanted to disclose that information. Well, whatever it was, he was sure he'd hear about it sooner or later.

*

"I had a talk with Nori earlier today."

Thorin threw the words out casually, hoping that Dwalin might be too concentrated on his magazine to truly listen. He didn't want to keep the issue from his partner - as Dwalin had reminded him shortly after their argument last week they had both agreed in the beginning one of the cornerstones of their relationship was trust and being open with each other. Thorin'd had more than enough time in the previous week to think things over after being forced on holiday for two days and decided that he couldn't keep the fact that he had asked Nori to help him from his partner forever. He saw a lot of things more clearly after the last few days and that Dwalin was too important to him to lose over something like this was one of those facts.

Despite his apparent fascination with motorcycle magazine in his hands, however, Dwalin had of course heard his statement and frowned, taking off his glasses and putting his reading aside.

"With Nori? What about?"

Thorin took a deep breath, knowing that Dwalin wouldn't like what he was about to hear.

"The investigation. I-"

"Thorin." Dwalin's voice was sharp. "I thought we'd argued enough about this. Let Homicide do their job and stay back. You'll only make it worse, for yourself _and_ them."

"And I've told you that I can't." Thorin shot back. Dwalin was right, they had argued about it more than once since the day on the previous week that he had practically been temporarily kicked out of the unit by Thranduil. "But I haven't done anything myself, I only asked Nori for some assistance..."

"It will only end with the two of you getting into even deeper trouble." Dwalin sighed, rubbing his eyes and evidently too tired to start the same argument all over again. "Thorin, you need to _stop_."

Thorin continued as if he hadn't heard him.

"Nori met with me today after the briefing and he told me that he couldn't find out much, but that he'd gotten wind of a certain man's name in some kind of secret document or another who might be able to give us more information. His name is Bilbo Baggins."

Dwalin's face darkened as he was listening to him. Thorin knew his partner well enough to be aware of what was going on in his head right now - he probably wanted to talk to both him and Nori and wanted to make them see that what they were doing was wrong, despite knowing of the fruitlessness of such an attempt. Evidently Thorin had guessed right as if to Dwalin's thoughts, for his only reply was:

"Bilbo?"

The name sounded as familiar to him as it had to Thorin, although he apparently couldn't quite place it from the beginning either.

"Yeah. It took me a bit, too, but then I remembered. He was at Frerin's funeral, Dís talked to him. Apparently he said he was an acquaintance of Frerin's." Thorin's voice faltered slightly at the word 'funeral' but he forced himself to keep talking.

Dwalin seemed to remember too now, for recognition dawned on his face.

"Small guy? Curly hair? Looks so inconspicuous his job could practically be anything?"

"Yeah." Thorin grinned, alleviating some of the tension that still hung in the air between them. "Nori did some more digging and he found out the man's number, so I set up a meeting with him on Friday evening. I just told him I wanted to talk about Frerin a little with someone who knew him differently than I did."

"You set up a meeting?" The worry was instantly back in Dwalin's face.

"Yes." Thorin took another deep breath. "And I'd like you to come with me."

For a moment, Dwalin was completely quiet, the entirety of the complications that could arise from what Thorin had just suggested slowly sinking in.

"I can't. Thorin, _if they catch us_ -"

"Then what? It isn't like we didn't have any reason at all to talk to this Bilbo Baggins. I think it's perfectly natural that I'd like to meet up with someone who knew my brother in wake of his death. And that I'd want to have my partner along for it, too."

Dwalin didn't look convinced.

"One word from this Bilbo into the wrong ear and your ploy won't hold for a second, especially if he is really as close to Gandalf or Homicide as Nori's info suggests. Thorin, this is too dangerous."

Thorin felt something in his own gaze harden at Dwalin's words. He didn't even try to hide his own disappointment when he answered.

"Then I will go alone. But nothing you say will keep me from going, you know that."

His partner sighed again. With a slow gesture he reached out towards Thorin, waiting to see whether he would withdraw. Thorin didn't move but let Dwalin carefully take his hand, their fingers slowly intertwining.

"I know. It's just - I'm _worried_ about you Thorin. No, that isn't even the right way to say it. I'm fucking _terrified_ that something might happen to you."

Thorin knew he could have easily played towards Dwalin's feelings now, could have used them to his own advantage by simply pointing out that Dwalin's presence would help in keeping him safe. Maybe, if he had been in the same dangerous and dark mood as only days ago he actually would have - but today had been a good day and so he just tried to smile, his thumb slowly trailing over Dwalin's skin.

"I'm too, for you." he finally admitted. His darkest nightmares were always those that robbed him of Dwalin, too. "It's just...I can't let this rest Dwalin. I can't. You have to understand. _Please_."

He didn't use the last word often and Dwalin closed his eyes for a moment, his fingers around Thorin's hand squeezing a little more tightly, his inner conflict apparent on his face. Instead of answer, Dwalin slowly drew him closer to himself when he showed no resistance, until Thorin was settled against his chest. Thorin felt himself relaxing the moment he was close to his partner, Dwalin's warmth seeping into him through the thin fabric of his shirt. With a sigh he closed his eyes, feeling incredibly tired all of a sudden. The weeks since Frerin's death had wearied him, a tiredness that went so much deeper than simple desire for sleep although he couldn't quite tell what it was. He only knew that the few times he felt truly alive where when he was working on Frerin's murder case or being close to Dwalin, their bodies touching and his love warming him like it did now.

Dwalin kissed his hair and sighed, his fingers lazily trailing up and down Thorin's arm.

"I'll come with you, Thorin." he finally said, his voice quiet. Thorin pushed himself up onto his elbows and turned around so he could look into Dwalin's face. He knew his partner well, so he had only one response.

"But...?"

Dwalin smiled at the fact that his partner had seen through him so easily.

"But only if you promise me that you will let the issue rest if this Bilbo Baggins has no new information. Give me your word you won't pursue it further afterwards in that case."

Thorin remained quiet for a moment, locking his gaze with Dwalin's. He thought about endless nights in which he had been lying awake on their bed, thinking about his brother's corpse on the ground. He remembered Thranduil's fury when his chief had discovered what he had done and the endless hours of searching through documents for clues. He recalled Dwalin's anger as well, so closely mixed with fear that the two had practically become inseparable. Dori's words were surging through his head and he remembered the small part of his mind that had been watching his actions for the last few weeks and telling him that he was becoming increasingly irrational in what he was doing.

Maybe Dwalin was right that this would only bring more trouble down on them. Maybe he wasn't.

"Thank you." he said softly. "I promise."

Dwalin released a deep breath and smiled, the expression lighting up his eyes and emphasising the wrinkles that had begun to appear around them. Thorin smiled back and traced the lines on his face with his fingers before he moved up to kiss him.

*

Dwalin kept an eye on Thorin whilst they were walking up to the restaurant. They hadn't been in this part of the city since Frerin had been murdered and he could only wonder why Thorin had chosen his brother's former workplace as the location for their meeting with Bilbo Baggins. Or maybe it hadn't been Thorin's idea at all but Mr. Baggins himself who had suggested it - no matter the reason, it made Dwalin profoundly uncomfortable.

Thorin's steps slowed as they were approaching the restaurant. They had consciously chosen to approach from a different side than where the side alley where Frerin had been found branched off so that there was no need for them to walk past it again. Nonetheless Thorin was shifting nervously next to him and for a moment Dwalin felt almost tempted to take his hand - but he knew that Thorin would probably take any kind of touch as a slight right now. He had been in an irritable mood all morning and it was one of those days where his temper could be set off by the slightest provocation. Dwalin could only hope that Mr. Baggins was careful with what he said and how he said it.

They were fifteen minutes early so that they could pick the table and Dwalin saw Thorin mentally prepare himself before taking a deep breath and opening the door. With one last thought that _hopefully_ nothing would go wrong he followed his partner inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned in B&B already, I don't quite know when the next chapter will be ready - it might be a bit more than the usual month since there'll be a lot going on in the next few weeks.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go, the next chapter! After all the stress in the past few weeks I hope I can come back to at least monthly updates again now :).
> 
> Quick recap for those who forgot: Thorin is still meddling in the investigation about his dead brother although he shouldn't, Nori has found out Bilbo's name for him, so he set up a meeting with Bilbo and Dwalin accompanies him. I'm afraid this is another not-really-happy chapter (we're rapidly approaching Thorin's lowest point in the story although we're not quite there yet), but I promise, there WILL be happier stuff in the future in this fic. At some point. *cough*

Bilbo was already there. He had been here more than an hour before the agreed time of their meeting, an old habit that it was hard to get rid of from when his days had consisted taking all kinds of odd jobs before Gandalf decided to take him in. After he had made sure that none of Azog's or Smaug's henchmen had followed him he'd had a good dinner and a very satisfying cup of tea and was now waiting for Thorin Durinsson.

He still didn't quite know why he had agreed to the meeting at all; it had certainly been a surprise when his phone had rang and it had been Durinsson at the other end of the line. Bilbo wondered in vain how the police officer had found out his number and quietly resolved to double check his connections the next time he had the chance. In some way, however, he still felt that he owed it to Frerin and his family to sit down and talk to his brother. Bilbo chided himself mentally for his weakness but he couldn't help but feel that this was the right thing to do.

Gandalf didn't know of this meeting, nor did anybody else in his vicinity. It was almost like the old days, Bilbo striking out to do his own thing after all. However, Gandalf had told him before that they had caught Durinsson starting his own investigation into his brother's death and that he was worried about the results it could have for both the officer and the ongoing investigation, especially given what had happened to Thorin's uncle and grandfather. He was sure that Gandalf would have approved as little of his meeting Thorin as Smaug would have had he known, but he was also sure that he wouldn't give Durinsson any information that would be dangerous. No, he just wanted to talk to the man, maybe soothe his own conscience and finally get this matter over with and out of his head.

The door to the restaurant opened and there was no mistaking the two men that walked through it exactly - Bilbo checked his watch - fifteen minutes early. The one accompanying Thorin could be none other than his colleague Dwalin Barkhun and he seemed to be much less happy to be here than his partner. Thorin himself looked tired, with dark rings under his eyes and pale skin that suggested he was spending too much time inside and it had been a while since he'd properly seen the sun. There was something haunted but of feverish intensity in his gaze that made Bilbo shudder slightly. His instincts told him that he would have to tread carefully.

He gave the two men a few moments to look around before he raised his hand in their direction to attract their attention. Thorin's eyes widened slightly when he saw him and there was an expression on Dwalin's face that he couldn't quite place, but they both came over to him after a moment. Bilbo remembered his manners and stood up before they reached him, offering them his open hand for a handshake before settling down at the table again. Both Thorin's and Dwalin's grips were firm and he winced slightly as his hand was squeezed a mite too much.

"Mr. Baggins?" Thorin inquired politely and Bilbo nodded.

"And I presume you are Mr. Durinsson and Mr. Barkhun." he replied. "How can I help you?"

Thorin and Dwalin seated themselves before Thorin carefully posed the first of his questions.

"I saw you at my brother's funeral. You knew him from his work at this restaurant?"

"Yes." Bilbo gave Thorin a non-committal smile that could mean anything. "I'm a regular here and always try and sit at roughly the same place - and over time I started to talk to Frerin. Of course I didn't know him well enough to be counted as a friend, but I was still very sad to hear about his death..."

Thorin's eyes narrowed and Bilbo hoped he hadn't vamped up the sentimental act too much.

"So you know nothing about what else Frerin was doing besides working here?"

 _Straight to the point_ , Bilbo thought. Evidently subtlety was something passing Thorin by, at least at the moment. He'd have to be more than careful with what he was going to reply...

"Not really, no. He sometimes mentioned a second side job, but I don't think he ever actually told me what it entailed." That, at least, was close enough to the truth. He'd heard about Frerin's involvement with one of Azog's gangs much too late and it was likely that Frerin hadn't even known who the true head of the organisation was that he had joined for some slightly illegal activities in black market sales and shipping. That he had seen a rather highly illegal shipment of weapons and the execution of one of the members of Azog's group had been nothing but a carefully prepared 'coincidence' by Azog himself who knew about Frerin's family relationships.

"Are you sure?" Thorin's questioning was relentless and the stare from his icy blue eyes seemed to drill right inside Bilbo's head. "It might have been an offhand comment of his or-"

"Yes, I'm quite sure." Bilbo replied firmly, suddenly beginning to feel uncomfortable. He was used to lying, to people questioning him and yet, there was a fever in Thorin's gaze that sat wrongly with him.

"I don't believe you." Thorin replied plainly and Dwalin next to him sighed, putting a hand on his partner's arm in an obvious effort to calm him down although the gaze from his eyes, too, told Bilbo plainly that Dwalin knew he was hiding something. Thorin shook Dwalin's hand off with a single gesture and there was no mistaking the spark of disappointment and worry flaring up in Dwalin's eyes. Bilbo wondered just how much time Thorin had already spent obsessing over his brother's death. Far too much, he'd wager.

"It seems like we're stuck then." Bilbo said and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture. "For I _am_ telling the truth, whether you like it or not."

"Thorin, let's go." Dwalin said softly. Thorin shot him an almost venomous glance and Dwalin sighed again.

"I have clear information that tells me you _do_ know more than you're letting on at the moment." Thorin told Bilbo and there was a firmness in his voice made of steel.

Bilbo frowned; he _really_ had to give his connections a thorough check. Whatever information Durinsson claimed he possessed, it was clearly too much. He smelled trouble already; best finish this talk as soon as possible and get away. Maybe a tinge of honesty was the way to go this time.

"Yes, I do." he told the two men in front of him.

Thorin seemed to be taken aback by his words, clearly not having expected Bilbo to give in so easily. Dwalin furrowed his brows, leaning back slightly in his chair as he watched Bilbo's face. "I've been working with Gandalf Tharkun before, doing the occasional job in information gathering for him. However, I can assure you that I knew nothing about your brother shortly before the murder happened or, indeed, anything about who is behind this crime."

"'Shortly before'?" Of course Thorin honed in on the one part of Bilbo's story where his tongue had slightly gotten away from him.

"It was too late for me to do anything." Bilbo said quietly, acutely aware that he had already given away far too much. He seemed to become sentimental with age; one day, that sentimentality would cost him his head, he was sure.

"So you knew." Thorin whispered, his eyes growing wide. Bilbo cursed. Of course that was the only part of what he had said that would stick in Durinsson's mind. "You knew my brother was going to die and you did nothing."

"I did not." Bilbo denied it although it wasn't quite the truth. Somehow, however, he thought that even if he tried to explain it to Thorin right now, it would be to no avail. "There wasn't enough time-"

But Thorin was on his feet already, Dwalin having jumped up beside him to hold him back. Thorin brushed past his partner without even bothering to look at him and suddenly Bilbo found Thorin's hand grabbing the front of his shirt and shaking him. Perhaps for the first time in his life Bilbo regretted the fact the he wasn't any taller or didn't cut a physically more imposing figure.

"You let him die." Thorin hissed. "You let him die and did nothing."

There was too much truth in his accusation for Bilbo to reply.

"Thorin!" Dwalin had appeared behind his partner now, putting a hand on his shoulder as if to pull him back. "Let go of him."

The first people in the restaurant had already started looking in their direction and one of the waiters had pulled out their phone. If Thorin was aware of it, he gave no sign, instead he ignored Dwalin and concentrated the full force of his rage against Bilbo once more.

"Why?" he demanded of Bilbo and beneath his anger Bilbo could hear a broken tone, jagged like glass that was cutting him up from the inside. Thorin's shaking became more forceful until Bilbo was unable to catch a clear thought. "Why did he have to die?"

"I. don't. _know_." Bilbo pressed out between clenched teeth, wishing more and more that he could just run away.

"WHY?!" Thorin's voice was loud enough by now to attract the attention of even the last customer and Bilbo could see the moment that Dwalin decided to end what was happening. With a single gesture the large man wrapped one of his arms around Thorin from behind and then the second, effectively forcing his partner to let go of Bilbo under the pressure of his own body.

Bilbo couldn't hear what Dwalin was murmuring in his ear but whatever he was saying, it seemed to do the job. Suddenly Thorin went limp in Dwalin's arms, his gaze for a moment like that of a wounded animal. Then he jerked himself free from Dwalin's grip and stormed outside without casting another look at Bilbo. Murmurs were starting to spread through the silence of the restaurant and Bilbo saw the tips of Dwalin's fingers trembling as he closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry." he said softly and Bilbo could only nod in reply. "Thorin...Thorin hasn't really been himself since Frerin died. I'm sorry that he-"

Dwalin shook his head before he shrugged helplessly.

"I'm sorry." he repeated again, knowing it would take a lot more than that to right things between them should they ever meet again.

Bilbo didn't reply, still slightly shocked by what had just transpired. His thoughts were in complete disarray and when Dwalin finally turned around and left it took him more than a moment to find his mental balance again. It wasn't the first time he had to lie or had been physically threatened, but somehow he still couldn't bring himself to just dismiss it as another encounter gone wrong. Something told him that this meeting would have more repercussions than either of them wanted. With a quiet sigh he paid his bill and left the restaurant, pulling out his phone as soon as he made sure there were no innocent-looking bystanders around and that Dwalin and Thorin were long gone. Then he dialled Gandalf's number.

*

Thorin didn't know what to think. He didn't even know whether he was thinking anything at all.

When he had left the restaurant, blood had been rushing in his ears and voices clamouring in his head so loudly that he wanted to scream to drown them out. Above all, however, there was his dead brother staring at him with eyes no longer seeing and repeating the same word he had shouted at Bilbo over and over again. _Why?_

He had tried to remember Dori's words, had tried to control his breathing and count every single one of the breaths he took, in and out, in and out. He dimly remembered smashing his fist against the wall until the sharp ache of it had finally penetrated his thoughts and provided him with an anchor in the maelstrom of his mind.

Dwalin had been the one to pull him out entirely - pulling his hand away from the wall but not touching him any further until Thorin was sure he could breathe again and the haze in front of his eyes had cleared. Neither of them had spoken about what happened even though Dwalin had seemingly been close to doing so more than once. When their phone rang later that evening none of them were surprised that it was Thranduil, ordering Thorin to be in his office the next morning at 9am sharp. They both knew what it meant and had, in a way, expected it.

What Thorin hadn't expected was for Thranduil to look like he had aged at least ten years in the past weeks. He had thought his chief would be shouting at him, his eyes blazing with anger and it would end how most of their conversations ended nowadays - with the banging of doors and both of them seething with rage.

Instead, Thranduil just sighed when he looked at Thorin, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Why, Durinsson?" he asked him, sounding incredibly tired. Thorin remained quiet, forcing Thranduil to voice the issue himself.

"Gandalf called me last evening, telling me that you had apparently met up with an associate of his called Bilbo Baggins and that you publicly lost control and threatened him."

"Yes." There wasn't anything else to say. Thorin met Thranduil's gaze steadily. What he had done might not have been right, but at least he wouldn't cower and admit to it instead.

"Care to tell me why?" Thranduil didn't back away from Thorin's gaze either. He still looked tired, but the drumming of his fingers on the polished surface of the table in front of him betrayed his growing anger.

"He lied to me. And I was...upset." As soon as the words left his mouth Thorin became aware that they sounded more like what a sullen teenager would tell a parent than what an employee would tell his boss. In a way, however, it was true - he _had_ felt angered far beyond the normal and completely lost control over himself.

"Upset." Thranduil's voice sounded dry as he repeated the word. "I would give you a lecture on proper behaviour in public, especially for a member of the force, Durinsson, but I feel it would be to no avail."

Thorin chose to remain silent, even though he could feel his own anger rising in his chest again.

"I also heard that officer Barkhun was with you." Thorin's fingers clenched into a fist when Thranduil mentioned his partner. "How far did his involvement go? Bilbo was rather vague on the point."

Gritting his teeth, Thorin tried to shove his anger aside and give Thranduil a reasonable-sounding answer.

"Dwalin had nothing to do with it. He tried to hold me back."

Silence followed his answer as if Thranduil was trying to determine whether he was speaking the truth or not. Then he nodded and Thorin relaxed slightly. At least whatever happened now would only happen to him and no one else.

"Still, your transgressions can no longer be overlooked. You know what this means." There seemed to be a shadow of regret tingeing Thranduil's voice now and Thorin just nodded, knowing perfectly well what was to come. "You're suspended, at least for the next month. I have negotiated with Gandalf and he is willing to provide you with full pay for the period of the next four weeks. After that, Dori will evaluate your psychological state and we will discuss your future in the force based on his findings."

Thorin stood rigid throughout Thranduil's words, careful not to let a single one of his feelings show on his face whilst he was staring at the window behind his chief's head. He had known this was coming; he had known what would happen as soon as he had received the call the evening before. Regret was stirring inside him and with it, a multitude of other emotions - even some relief now that the worst that could happen had finally happened. He was even of half a mind to reject the offer of full pay based purely on his pride, but reason flooded his mind at the last moment, reminding him that what little savings he had would soon be used up and that it would be difficult for Dwalin to sustain two people on his pay alone. And he would not be a dead weight to his partner, not anymore than he already was.

Thranduil looked at him like he expected an answer but Thorin found himself empty of words somehow. Nothing that he could say would have changed Thranduil's opinion of him or, indeed, the verdict that had been cast over his head; and suddenly the trace of pity in Thranduil's eyes became more than he could bear. He gave his chief a brisk nod and turned around to walk out of the door and start clearing the most important items out of his desk.

"Wait." Thranduil called out behind him and Thorin was half of a mind to just keep on walking like a stubborn and particularly bad-tempered child. But of course he didn't. "Your badge. You can hand your weapon to Balin later."

He held out his hand in Thorin's direction and waited. Clenching his teeth Thorin dug in his pocket for his badge and, ignoring Thranduil's hand, slammed it on the table in front of him.

"Are we done now?" he pressed out. Thranduil only nodded and Thorin could feel his gaze drilling into his back when he stepped out of the office.

He realised only after the door had fallen back into its lock behind him that both his hands were balled into fists, fingers clenched so tightly that it took him a conscious effort to relax them again. There were little dents shaped like half moons left in his palms and for a moment he simply stared at them, not knowing what to do with himself. Then he went to the office and started to clean out his desk.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, ok, that was a bit quicker than I thought it would be. So, early next chapter for you!  
> In other news, there's more music for you too! My awesome beta and muse put together [an amazing fanmix](http://8tracks.com/heirsofdurin/for-whom-the-bell-tolls) for this story and universe, have a listen!

Dwalin watched.

He watched as Thorin came home the day after the disastrous meeting with Bilbo and a few hours before he had to leave for the beginning of his own shift. His partner was carrying a box under his arm and the emptiness in his face told Dwalin that his gut feeling had been correct. There was no need for him to ask, especially when he saw the edges of most of Thorin's personal affairs peek out from under one of the flaps of the box. Thorin didn't tell him what exactly Thranduil's words had been and so Dwalin didn't push him; he knew that Balin would likely give him all the details later anyway and if there was a chance of Thorin returning to the force.

He watched as Thorin remained strangely detached, not only from him but from everything else, too - even when Dís came to visit them, there were no more animated conversations and frequent jokes and she was too caught up in her own grief for the brother she had lost to be able to coax Thorin out of it. For that matter, so was Dwalin - not too caught up in grief, no, but in the changes that had happened in their lives and the fear that was rising inside him. Thorin didn't seem to react to most of his attempts to get him to talk to him, although at least he still continued his sessions with Dori and made sure to take his medications (as far as Dwalin could tell anyway - he didn't want to put a breach in the already slightly waning trust between them by spying on Thorin). His anxiety attacks, however, seemed to have lessened somewhat as had his violent mood swings. His new self-imposed seclusion, in contrast, was in a way harder to deal with for Dwalin - before, he had never felt so helpless, had known how to give his partner the comfort he needed and was sure that there was always the two of them fighting together. Now he sometimes felt as if he was living with a stranger.

He watched as Thorin became obsessed with both the old murder case of his uncle and grandfather and that of Frerin, spending hours and hours on end every day digging through documents old and new in the desperate search for clues and evidence that Azog was involved. As far as Dwalin knew Nori had thwarted any other attempt from Thorin to make contact with him after his dismissal, and wisely so. Dwalin's suggestion to just take some time off and clear his head was ignored pointedly and although he knew it certainly wasn't the right way to deal with it, he simply hoped that the phase of obsession would end soon.

They hadn't seen or heard anything of Bilbo Baggins since the meeting in the restaurant and Dwalin was glad about it, even though he still felt sorry for what had happened. It had been clear to him as well that Bilbo had been hiding something but Thorin's way of going about finding out what it was certainly _hadn't_ been the right one. Dwalin hoped that one day, maybe they would be able to resolve the situation.

It was after three weeks that Balin quietly pulled him aside after the end of his evening shift, wanting to talk to him.

"How's Thorin?" he asked Dwalin, frowning when his brother sighed, far too tired to be wanting to have that particular conversation right now. It was past midnight and they'd both had a long day. In fact, he was impressed that Balin was still there.

"Withdrawn." To most other people Dwalin would have lied but Balin was his brother. He would recognise a lie immediately and Dwalin knew he owed him the truth. He just had to keep telling himself that Balin was judging neither him nor Thorin, he was simply honestly concerned about both of their well-beings or at least he hoped that was the case.

"Do you think he will be able to recover enough to pass Dori's evaluation next week?" Balin said carefully.

"I don't know." Dwalin clenched his teeth. He had tried not to think about it, especially not what would happen should Thorin _not_ pass and find himself without a job afterwards. He knew that Thorin had loved his job even after his injury, but since Frerin's murder he wasn't so sure anymore. Everything, even Dwalin, seemed to have paled in importance in comparison to the mad hunt for traces of Azog.

Balin looked displeased at the brevity of his answer, but Dwalin had nothing else to tell him.

"We're all worried about him." Balin said more quietly, putting a hand on Dwalin's shoulder. "And we all want him to return."

Dwalin felt himself bristle when he looked into his brother's eyes. Balin's slightly pitying gaze made him angry. He didn't need anybody's pity; his decision to stay with Thorin, to support him was his and his alone. Dwalin didn't 'sacrifice' anything by being with him and for some reason he was sure that if the tables were turned, if he was the one who was ill, Thorin would do exactly the same. He knew Balin only meant well, but it still infuriated him, as if he were some kind of victim in a tragic story. He _wasn't_.

"I know." he simply replied, trying not to let too much of his anger show. "And he knows, too. He'll return."

Dwalin added the last bits more for his own sake than for Balin's, hoping that his words were the truth.

"Fine, then." Balin sighed. "Be careful on your way home tonight. Thranduil called me into a meeting earlier and told me that Azog's groups have been unusually active in the past few days and he suspects that there might be something big going on. I don't want to see you hurt."

His honest worry made Dwalin's lips twitch a little and for a moment he felt thrown back into a time when he had been decades younger, with an older brother who always kept watch over him and worried on his behalf.

"I'll take care." he promised Balin. And, as was his duty as a younger brother, just to annoy him he added: "You be careful, too."

Balin gave a quick laugh and slapped Dwalin's shoulder.

"You know me, I'm always careful." he told him.

Dwalin made a grimace and nodded, ignoring Balin's eye rolling.

"I'll see you tomorrow, brother." Balin called after him and Dwalin raised his hand, a slight smile still playing around his lips.

*

Thorin sighed as he hefted the heavy box up from the floor and put it on the living room table. He had driven out to his parents' house one day the week before, asking his mother if he could temporarily borrow the two boxes full of documents and memorabilia from her brother and father. She had barely been able to convince him to stay for lunch before he had returned back home, having ignored most of her questions about Dwalin or his emotional state that had come up during the meal. His most important thought was to be able to get back home as soon as possible and start looking through the content of the boxes.

He had finished with the first box the day before and had found nothing of importance in it - most of it had been private matters, from old family pictures that Thorin had put aside after Frerin's pudgy toddler face had stared at him from the first one to folders full of old documents like copies of tax returns and bank statements. Now he started to unpack the second box, putting as many items on their small table as it would hold. At least Dwalin had the late shift today, so he wouldn't be home before 1am. He had at least tried not to cover every available surface during his work when Dwalin was there because he knew his partner didn't like it, but it was certainly easier when he was alone.

Sometimes, especially in the cover of the night's darkness, he felt the growing rift between himself and his partner. Concentrating on finding traces of Azog had helped him to forget the pictures of his dead brother in his head and often he simply worked so long that he fell into bed too exhausted to dream, thus keeping the nightmares at bay. He told himself that once he had found what he was searching for everything would surely return to normal and he wouldn't feel so lost anymore when looking into Dwalin's eyes.

The first layer of things in the box consisted of personal affairs again - three small boxes, containing his uncle's favourite wooden pencil case, a large ornate iron key likely from the old summerhouse they had sold long ago and part of his grandfather's collection of small animal figures made from whittled wood that he had loved so much. Thorin smiled slightly when he remembered the one time he, Frerin and Dís had managed to convince their grandfather to let them play with them although only under his watchful eye. With an effort he pushed more recent memories of his brother that wanted to invade his mind aside and deposited the boxes on the table. He would have a look at them later.

The second layer consisted of more folders and Thorin sighed when he took them out of the box. He felt the weariness inside him beginning to grow when he opened them and found that they consisted of more documents like the ones he had seen in the days before - bills and seemingly endless paperwork of the mundane sort. No notes, documents or anything that could vaguely relate to their investigations of Azog and his doings. Thorin shook his head in frustration before he ventured out into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water to drink.

When he returned he didn't quite pay enough attention to the edge of the table where he had put the three boxes from before. He walked by too closely, the fabric of his pants catching on the edge of the lowermost box - and with a crash all three of them tumbled down, spilling their contents on the rug that covered the floor.

"Fuck."

Thorin cursed when he lowered himself down to the floor, his knee protesting vehemently against any motion that was even close to kneeling. When he had finally found a position that was halfway comfortable he began to pick up the wooden figurines first, glad that none of them seemed to have been broken, their fall cushioned by the old carpet that Dwalin had bought when he had moved in with him (or, more accurately, taken over his apartment). For a moment his movements stilled as he remembered the first months in Dwalin's apartment, their (now obvious) pining after each other and the simple warmth that had flooded through him every time he had returned to their place. Maybe he should go to bed a bit earlier today once Dwalin was back, to bring some of that warmth back between them...

All those thoughts, however, were lost when his gaze encountered the key that had fallen out of its velvet cushioning and was now on the floor beneath some of the wooden figurines and pens from the pencil case. A glimmer of silver on the black metal of the key caught his key and he grabbed it, holding it close to the light to catch a clearer sight of it.

The glimmer of silver turned out to be a second, much smaller key that had carefully been affixed to the back of the top part of the larger key using bits of sticky tack. It must have been completely invisible from the top when the box was opened normally and Thorin frowned. Running his fingers up and down the length of the large iron key he felt some further disturbances in the otherwise smooth metal. His heart began to beat faster when he jumped up and began rummaging in some drawers for the magnifying lens he knew they kept somewhere.

Ignoring the items still scattered on the floor for now he picked up the key again and tried to find out what the rough structures where he had found by touch. At first they were hard to make out but as he switched on an additional light he could finally make out fine lines scratched into the black iron of the key. Convinced that there was more to them than he grabbed a sheet of paper and started scribbling down what he could see, finally staring in confusion at the signs on the paper in front of him:

ᛟᛚᛞ ᛒᚨᛊᛖᛗᛖᚾᛏ ||| | ||||| ᛚᛖᚠᛏ || ||||||| ||||||| -

The lines didn't make sense to him although he soon guessed that they had to be some kind of scripture. He frowned before he remembered the blessings of modern technology (a phrase that his sister would have probably killed him for) and took a few pictures of the scratchy writing. To his surprise, the first hit of the image search of the first three signs seemed to prove a perfect match already and his eyes widened slightly when he clicked on the link.

Runes.

He remembered his uncle's obsession with anything Nordic or Viking and berated himself that he should have thought of it much sooner. I didn't take him too long to find out that whoever had carved the signs into the back of the key (his uncle, most likely) had simply used the runes from the eldest known rune alphabet, the elder futhark, and substituted them for modern letters. It would likely make every linguist gnash their teeth, but Thorin smiled lightly when he remembered Finn's straightforward personality. It was just like his late uncle to do something like that.

The excitement inside him grew when he had finally deciphered the words. The first two were 'old basement', the latter one 'left'. Clearly a hint for some kind of location somewhere. Could there have been, after all, a grain of truth to the rumours that his grandfather and uncle had hidden most of the results of their investigation against Azog somewhere?

The straight vertical lines, however, were still a mystery to him - as far as he knew or could find out, there was nothing equivalent in the old rune alphabets that could truly conform to it, apart from the letter 'i'. Even then, however, it did not make sense.

Thorin took a deep breath and got up from the table to get himself another drink. As he returned he almost stepped on one of the small whittled figurines, reminding him that the floor was still a mess. Whilst he was collecting all the items on the floor and putting them back into the boxes they belonged into his thought kept wandering back to the clue he had just uncovered. An old basement where? He could spontaneously think of several places with old basements that Regar and Finn had frequented, but none of them seemed to have any connections to the strange vertical lines.

After he had finished cleaning up the floor and restoring everything back into the big cardboard box apart from the large key, his notes and the smaller key he spent a good while simply sitting on their sofa and looking at the objects in his hand. Something was tugging at the edges of his mind as he examined the smaller one of the keys - he had seen something like this before. Putting the large one aside, he kept turning the little silver object in his hands, raking his mind for why it seemed so familiar to him.

The solution finally hit him when he thought that Dwalin would soon be finishing his late shift and come home for the night - he would go through the little routines that every one of them went through after a night of patrolling the roads and that Thorin still missed with a strange ache. And a part of the routine would be to store his gear in his locker. In a rare spree of spending money the MOP headquarters had been fitted with new, better ventilated and more secure lockers about seven years back and the old ones had been discarded god-knew-where. The keys though...the keys for the old lockers had been exactly like the one he was holding in his hands right now.

His heart started to beat much faster when he clearly remembered having had one of those keys himself for years. The feeling of it in his hand was the same. Excitement swirled through his head and somehow he knew he was on the right path. The only thing left to determine now were what those damnable lines meant and the actual location of the locker the words were referring to. The latter was easier for him to find out - there were only a few buildings that Regar and Finn had worked at regularly and only one of them had an old basement where numerous disused items were being stored: the main police building. Even without his ID he should be able to gain access to it and if not, he could always ask Bofur for help.

The course of the future seemed strangely clear all of a sudden. He would get the documents, verify them and then use them to punish Azog for what he had done to him and his family. He would be able to go back to work. Frerin would leave his nightmares alone and he would spend more time with Dwalin. Everything would be back to normal again.

He had just started to collect his jacket and keys when the door to their apartment opened and Dwalin walked in, obviously tired after a long day of work. Thorin looked up and smiled at him, still searching for his own set of keys.

"Hey."

"Hey." Dwalin replied and yawned, taking off his boots and throwing his heavy coat over the kitchen chair. Only then did he seem to notice the fact that Thorin was getting ready to leave and he turned to him, frowning.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to go to the police headquarters." Thorin replied carefully. Dwalin's face darkened a little with worry.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, clearly thinking that Thorin had either been called in for whatever reason or that he was about to report something he couldn't tell anyone about over the phone.

"Nono, I just need to check something." Thorin couldn't even tell what it was that made him hold back the fact from Dwalin that he might finally have found the documents. He could see that Dwalin knew Thorin wasn't telling him everything and an expression of hurt crossed his face.

"Thorin, _it's 1am_. And besides, they won't let you in. Not after what happened." He sounded both tired and worried.

"I still need to go." Thorin insisted stubbornly. Couldn't Dwalin see that this was important to him? He _had_ to go.

"I'm sure that whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow." Dwalin was trying hard to make his voice sound reasonable, but Thorin was unable to fathom why. The reasonable thing was to go _now_ and not let any more time pass.

"No."

"Damn it, Thorin!" Anger started to mix into Dwalin's voice now as he took a few steps towards him, trying to catch Thorin's gaze with his own eyes. "You cannot simply barge out of the house at 1am on a hunch! Just be reasonable and-"

"And why not?" Now it was Thorin's turn to get loud, not caring who might hear. "This is what I've been looking for all along. This is what could turn it all around. And you want to keep me from it just on the grounds of 'being reasonable'?"

Dwalin's eyes widened at his words, the anger now clear in his face.

"Yes I do! Because apparently you seem to have lost all reason you've ever had! You cannot even see how you're destroying your life!"

Thorin simply gaped at him, the mist of anger in his mind making it impossible for him to rationally process or reply to what Dwalin had just said.

"Then maybe I should continue to be 'unreasonable' as you say and just move out so you aren't bothered by it anymore and will stop nagging!"

Dwalin stared at him wordlessly for a moment before picking up his coat again and walking back towards the door.

"I need to get some fresh air." he said quietly as he stepped outside, the door slamming shut behind him so loudly that it had probably woken up the rest of the house.

When he returned from his walk to cool himself off over an hour later, ready to apologise and accept an apology in return, Thorin was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know that feeling when you know EXACTLY that what you're saying is wrong and hurtful but you are too angry to care and in the end you just hate yourself because of it? I'm pretty sure that's what's happening here. Neither of them was being fair; and they both know it. But it looks like the damage is done...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! It's a double chapter this time! I was on a roll when writing and I though those two chapters go better together than alone, to be honest. Because now the excitement starts again! More action! More emotions! More plot! Hurray!
> 
> On a slightly different note - just as last year, Dworin Week will be a thing again this year! Everybody is welcome to participate with anything they want to do - have a look at the [ post on Tumblr ](http://mainecoon76.tumblr.com/post/117257044783/so-dworin-week) :).

Once more he felt like he was caught in a strange dream. Thorin stared at the ceiling of the cheap hostel room, feeling the springs beneath the worn down mattress dig uncomfortably into his back. Most of his clothes and important belongings were in the two large duffel bags that he had dumped unceremoniously against the next wall. He had left Dwalin's apartment in the heat of the moment, his sole thought being that it couldn't stay like this. Maybe it would be better if he just left for a while, now that he was so close to finally discovering what he had wanted to find for years. Thorin rigorously shut out the part of his own mind that told him that this rift between him and Dwalin wouldn't be repaired so easily, that he should go back to the apartment and maybe even apologize - he would. He would come back at some point. But right now, he could use no more distractions.

After some consideration he hadn't gone to the main police building after all - the two large bags he was carrying with him were not only impractical, they probably would have attracted unwanted attention as well. Despite the impatience and sense of urgency still burning inside him he decided that the morning the next day would have to be early enough. With a sigh he rolled over, trying to find at least some sleep before the next day would begin. It was strange, being in a bed alone again; despite the slowly growing distance between him and Dwalin they had always slept in the same bed and Thorin had rarely been able to go to sleep without his partner by his side.

The bed felt strangely cold and rest continued to elude him for most of the night.

It did indeed take him an extra call to Bofur the next morning to enter the main police building - he still knew a few security guards from his time there, but without a badge, gaining access was more difficult than he'd thought it would be. Bofur was seemingly happy to see him, however, even though he must have heard by now of Thorin's temporary suspension from his job at the MOP. Thorin was thankful that his friend avoided asking about anything relating to it and he enjoyed a few minutes of talk with him before Bofur had to get on with his own work.

Thorin told him that he'd be able to find his way back outside on his own and after a moment Bofur nodded, giving him a pat on the shoulder as farewell and telling him to greet Dwalin in his name. Uttering a non-committal goodbye, Thorin simply nodded and smiled, thinking about how he had found two unanswered calls from Dwalin on his phone this morning. He still kept wondering whether he should call back as he descended the staircase in the back of the building towards the basement of the house.

Every such thought, however, was soon swept aside as excitement made his heart beat faster the closer he got to the large subterranean level where he knew most of the storage rooms were located. Not much had changed since his time here - the place still had the same musty smell of disuse and the look as if it hadn't been cleaned in more than a decade. Thorin tried the handle of each door he came across if there wasn't a sign on the door that indicated a use different from being a storage room. It took him a while to find the right one, but finally one of the doors revealed rows upon rows of old storage lockers with a layer of dust on them so thick that it was clear nobody had been in here for years.

The room was vast, however, and to his dismay Thorin soon found that it would be impossible for him to try the small silver key on each lock that presented itself to him. After staring helplessly into the room with its ridiculous number of old lockers, he suddenly felt like a flash of inspiration had hit him. Even though there were several lockers sporting the same numbers (they had probably come from different departments) it was still the one thing with which to tell them all apart - numbers. He dug for the sheet of paper where he had written down the symbols from the back of the key and looked at the horizontal lines again. He immediately noticed that they seemed to be grouped into different segments - three for the first group and four for the second. Just like the numbers on the lockers seemed to always consist of three different numerals. Maybe, if he just counted the lines...it would give him the numbers 315 and 2770 and turn the complete message into 'old basement 315 left 2770'.

His hands were trembling in anticipation as he turned left, remembering the last word written on the key in runes. It still took him a while to find the right locker - but finally he stood in front of it. It looked exactly the same like most of the other lockers, its door shut and slightly dented, but Thorin knew that it wasn't important. What was important was inside.

Taking a deep breath he took out the small silver key and put it into the lock. It fit perfectly. Feeling a trickle of equal parts excitement and nervousness down his back he turned the key, once, twice. The lock resisted his efforts slightly, but after giving it some shakes, it finally unlocked and Thorin tried to open the door.

It was stuck.

He cursed loudly and set to pry the door open, digging his fingers into the small opening between the door and frame. Finally whatever had been stuck gave way and he wretched the large metal door aside. The locker looked like most other lockers on the inside, just considerably more dusty - apart from the large safe deposited on the top shelf. It seemed to be completely unmarred by the passage of time and when Thorin tried the combination of '2770', its door swung open without a sound, revealing a single metal case resting inside.

Thorin's hands were still trembling when he removed the case from its hiding place, thinking distractedly that the last one to touch this had probably been his uncle or grandfather many years ago. He put down the case and worked the latch to open it, fumbling with it longer than he should have in his excitement. When he finally removed the lid Thorin took another deep breath as he saw its contents: files. Page upon page of reports, handwritten notes and a multitude of documents. He shuddered when he recognised Azog's face on a few of them. It was the ultimate proof that this was what he had been searching for - the evidence that would finally serve to bring down Azog and his henchmen.

He stuffed the case in his rucksack and took the time to carefully close both the safe and locker again. It was impossible to wipe out his traces in the dust of the room (not without cleaning it first), but now that the locker was empty, such efforts would probably be useless anyway. He made sure to control his walking speed and look as inconspicuous as possible as he left the building, nodding at security on his way out who gave him a friendly wave. The case seemed to be a heavy weight in his rucksack and he couldn't wait to be alone and finally sort through its contents.

At first his steps automatically directed him towards the subway - it took him two stops on the train to realise that he was going in the wrong direction. He had been about to go home. _Dwalin's_ home. Gripping his rucksack so tightly that his knuckles were turning white Thorin resolutely told himself that he would have to examine the evidence first, to sort out what was useful and what wasn't. And to do so would be much better on his own, with no distraction. A voice in a corner of his mind was whispering that he was only too ashamed to go back to the apartment and face Dwalin after he had run away the previous night, but he just swept those thoughts away with an effort of will.

Later.

This was more important.

*

Bilbo clasped his hands behind his back as he looked at the room in front of him. It breathed the same arrogance and power as all of Smaug's places - not a speck of dust anywhere, a high ceiling, understated but overly expensive decorations and furnishings and an air as if you were constantly being watched (which, in all fairness, was probably the truth. Bilbo had seen the armada of screens in the security rooms).

With the same immaculate accuracy that he had used for preening his rose bushes this morning Smaug was now sitting at a the large table in one of his sitting rooms and flicking through several photos in front of him. Azog was standing on the other side of the table, taking a seat only after Smaug had indicated that he should. He remained silent whilst his superior was looking at the pictures, waiting for Smaug to start the conversation. Bilbo had taken up position at the side between them and occasionally cast a glance in Daisy's direction. She was keeping in the background, but no doubt heard everything that was being spoken at the table.

Daisy often made him acutely uncomfortable - despite her impeccable manners and apparent politeness there was a wildness about her, an air of danger that never seemed to dissipate. It seemed like she could strike out every moment and bring everyone around her down with deadly precision. Bilbo idly wondered why Smaug was even tolerating her presence in this room; she was likely one of the few people who might pose a genuine danger to him. It was probably because he preferred to keep an eye on danger, rather than letting it simmer in the shadows.

"You received those images around noon today?" Smaug asked, his fingers drumming lightly on the polished wood of the table in front of him.

"Yes." Azog replied. He refrained from adding when they had been taken - it was clearly stated in bright numbers on the corners of the security cam footage that showed Thorin Durinsson entering the police building early the same morning and leaving it again soon after, with a significantly more bulging rucksack.

"Do we know which room he entered and what it contained?" Smaug's voice seemed to hold no more than mild interest, but Bilbo had learnt to read him over the years and knew that he was more than tense inside.

"I had an associate investigate as soon as I saw the photographs, yes. Apparently it was a storage room where old lockers have been put and seemingly forgotten. The traces in the dust there made it obvious that Durinsson went for a very specific locker. However, it only contained a safe that, once broken into, proved to be empty."

Smaug hissed. The sound was so unusual and sudden that everyone in the room flinched back, including Bilbo. The anger beneath it was palpable and icy.

"So the documents exist. And he found them." It wasn't a question and Azog didn't dare answer, simply nodding slightly in reply.

"This is...inconvenient." Smaug continued, his eyes narrowing. "And it's time for another warning I think, both for the police and Durinsson personally. Are the preparations for Moria finished?"

"Yes." Azog inclined his head and Bilbo fought to keep a frown off his face. Moria? He had heard the name several times before in the last week but had been unable to find out so far what exactly the operation entitled. It had been one of his greatest annoyances in the past days not be able to find out more about it. He had only known that both Azog and Smaug were involved and there had been orders given that he had been entirely in the dark about. It had filled him with a sense of uneasiness - nowadays there was rarely anything going on in Smaug's vicinity that he didn't know about and his gut told him that this was something that was more than important.

"Good. I believe this evening will serve as the right time to remind both the SWAT team and especially Durinsson that we are not be trifled with." Smaug's voice was back to its normal cold tone.

"Sir, why don't we simply kill Durinsson himself instead?" Azog dared to venture forward. Smaug's eyes narrowed as if he was honestly considering the suggestion for a moment.

"Too obvious and simple. He will have brought safety mechanisms for the documents in place; likely made copies and the like. No, we need to scare him and the ones he is working for and pressure him into giving everything up. Then we can kill him. But it has to be carefully planned, not an ad-hoc decision..." his voice trailed off and it was clear that he was referring to Frerin's death and Azog's unauthorised action on that point. Azog was intelligent enough not to press the point any further.

"Then we proceed as planned. Shall I use the same pressure point that we agreed upon earlier?" An expression of satisfaction rushed over Azog's face as he said the last words and Bilbo wondered just how exactly they planned on getting Thorin to hand them the documents.

"Yes. See that both operations are carried out as soon as possible and keep me updated continuously. You have until tomorrow to bring back the documents." Smaug's cold eyes seemed to be glittering for a moment before he added: "That's all."

"Sir." Azog nodded again and rose from his seat. Daisy shifted slightly to move to a position behind him that still allowed her to see the remaining people in the room.

"Mr. Baggins, please show them the way out." The courtesy was barely more than a thinly-veiled dismissal - obviously Smaug wanted to have both him and everyone else out of his room.

Bilbo gave a quick nod to signal that he had understood the order and wasted no time in preceding their 'guests' to the door and show them the way out of the vast mansion. There was complete silence between them - Daisy generally wasn't known for talking much and the dislike between Azog and Bilbo had always been mutual. After guiding them outside and seeing to it that they had departed safely, Bilbo took a moment to curse heartily. He needed to get into contact with Gandalf, and he needed to do so promptly to warn them about whatever was to come. But even with his _other_ phone he couldn't risk sending off a call right now, not so close to the mansion where every wall and tree seemed to have eyes and ears. He would have to keep playing his role until he was finally able to leave for the day.

The following minutes seemed to turn into hours, each one of them grating on his nerves. However, he could not show any of it in front of Smaug - even the smallest hint of discomfort would have given him away and he didn't want to risk years over years of careful work over just one operation and call he had to make. All he could do was to sit it out and wait until he was released from his duties for the day.

Finally he was able to go - early enough to still make a difference, maybe, but also late enough to make him worry. As soon as he was surely out of reach of Smaug's surveillance network he took out the old phone he still possessed and had once had modified by Radagast, an old acquaintance of Gandalf's, to help make call detection and tracing just that much harder.

Bilbo dialled the one number that only he and Gandalf were privy to and which would alert the old man to the seriousness of the situation. He picked up almost immediately and Bilbo breathed out a grateful sigh.

"Gandalf, listen." he told him, slightly breathless. "You need to warn Thranduil. And Thorin Durinsson. Something big is going down and I have no idea what will happen."

*

Balin sighed quietly. He had received the call that summoned him to the headquarters 'as soon as possible' only a few minutes ago and was now faced with the bleak possibility of yet another free evening gone down the drain. He still clung on to the illusion that, one day, he would finally demand and get his pay for all the overtime he had been working which should have been enough to built a house by now. Not today, however. Not today.

As he started sorting everything he would need to take with him he figured that he should probably take Ori as well - the lad had wanted to see the main building for a while and Balin would need help with carrying all the files he intended to bring along. It irked him that he would have to use the second SWAT van they always held in reserve to drive over to the building - but taking the train would take far too long, especially now during the latter half of the rush hour. And today had been one of the few days when he'd left his own car at home, opting to come in by bicycle instead. Even Thranduil had given his agreement, albeit reluctantly since they were supposed to always have a second van on standby in the unlikely event that the first one broke.

Ori seemed to be more than enthusiastic to come along, just as Balin had hoped - especially when he announced that they would be driving in one of the official SWAT vehicles. After a short apology to Dori that he would whisk his younger brother away for the evening on such short notice, Balin quickly gave the lad one of the two boxes they needed to get down into the van to carry.

"Balin!" A voice rang out in the corridor behind them and he turned around to find Óin coming in their direction. "Thranduil told me you were on your way to the main building. Mind if I come along?"

"Of course not." Balin smiled - he had always liked Óin, next to him the oldest member on the team and invaluable with his experience and medical knowledge. It would be nice to have him along, especially since Ori had always been a little bit shy about talking to the older man due to their vast difference in age and experience.

It didn't take them long to deposit everything they needed in the van and get on their way.

Unfortunately, that meant that they didn't hear the call that arrived only minutes after they had left, summoning the entire SWAT team to a supposed hostage situation in Malden, the Northern part of the Boston area. They also didn't hear Thranduil receiving another, different call, that prompted him to give out a summons to everyone for immediate assembly. And they didn't hear the ringing of Balin's phone which lay forgotten at the bottom of his bag and was turned to silent.

What they did hear, however, was the sound of a sudden 'clack' as the van began to lurch.

It was also the last thing they would ever hear before their world exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, there's a reason for that 'major character death'-tag. Uhm. Whelp? Please don't hate me?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another one! Oops. 
> 
> (No worries, B&B readers, the next chapter for that is almost done as well ;)...)

Thorin's phone had remained switched off all throughout the afternoon as he sat on his hostel bed with a bag of doritos next to him and slowly made his way through the contents of the metal case. It was indeed all there - everything that had been rumoured, and more. Not only was there a wealth of background information on Azog and a meticulous account of some of his operations that would have been enough to bring him into prison for three lifetimes; there were also snippets of information on a figure larger than him and hidden even deeper in the shadows, of a man named Smaug.

Smaug was somewhat of a mystery, even with what little information Thorin could find about him in the documents. Nobody knew his true age, nationality, or even what he looked like - the only indicators of his presence were odd phone calls tracing back to numbers that shouldn't exist, money flowing from mysterious sources which made no sense, and a pattern in more than one of Azog's operations that indicated that there was clearly someone even higher than him involved.

Azog, in contrast, seemed to be much easier to figure out than Smaug. They knew his birth date and place, the names of his parents and siblings (all of them long dead apart from a sister who had been out of contact with him for decades) and could trace how he had moved from a simple henchman to one of the mightiest crime lords of the East Coast. As far as Thorin could see it had happened due to a mixture of ruthlessness, intelligence, the odd bit of luck and the ability to know exactly what had to be done and when to wring the maximum amount of profit out of a situation. He couldn't shake the feeling that, had Azog concentrated his abilities on anything else than crime, he would have been able to go far in the world of business or politics.

His bodyguard, Daisy, was a different story. Thorin vaguely remembered her from his own disastrous meeting with Azog and shuddered when he thought of her impassionate expression all throughout it. As with Smaug, nobody quite knew where she had came from until she had turned up as employee in the records of Warg Securities, a firm that had been led to nationwide renown under its current CEO, Rosak Gundabad. There still wasn't much known about her apart from the fact that she seemed to have an impeccable record in her job and that she had been by Azog's side for years, certainly one of his most deadly employees.

There wasn't enough time for Thorin to look into all the documents that he had found within the metal case, but what he had seen convinced him that his uncle and grandfather had collected more than enough to be able to make a stand in court against Azog. He didn't know what they had been waiting for, why they hadn't just taken the material and made the case - but whatever it was, it had been their last mistake. Azog and, presumably, Smaug had gotten to them before they could ever make anything of what they had found public.

Thorin thought he should begin to take pictures of the most important documents in case they would get lost or stolen. It probably wouldn't hold up to much in court, but at least it would be better than nothing. With a sigh he moved from the bed and rummaged in his coat until he had found his phone. Switching it on, he frowned - more missed calls from Dwalin, and, curiously, three ones from Thranduil as well.

That was odd.

In his entire time at the MOP he was unable to think of a single circumstance where Thranduil had called his private phone number. Overcome by sudden curiosity and a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, he dialled his chief's number and to his surprise, Thranduil picked up almost immediately.

"Durinsson, where are you?" Thorin frowned again when he heard the tone of Thranduil's voice. He didn't sound angry - just tired and, as impossible as it was, _worried_.

"At a hostel. Why?"

Thranduil seemed to breathe a quiet sigh of relief at the other end and the feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong amplified in Thorin's chest. When he didn't immediately receive an answer, he gripped his phone more tightly.

"Thranduil, what happened?" Thorin didn't even try to hide the tone of urgency in his voice.

"Our vans were rigged. We could disable the explosives on one of them in time, but the other one...Balin, Óin and Ori were in it. They're dead."

There was a sudden ringing in Thorin's ears and for a moment he simply forgot to breathe. It couldn't have happened. It was all too surreal, too _wrong_ \- they couldn't just be dead, could they?

"Thorin? Thorin, are you still there?" Thranduil's voice sounded like an echo from a different time, a reality Thorin was no longer part of.

"Yeah...yeah I am."

"We received a warning that we weren't the only ones who were targeted. Your name was also mentioned. We weren't able to reach Dwalin yet, but I'm ordering you two in. Come here as soon as possible." Thranduil had almost reverted back to his usual, business-like cold tone, but Thorin could hear how shaken he was beneath it. His own mind was still reeling, refusing to acknowledge what he had heard.

"I'll be there in a bit." he said and hung up before Thranduil could answer. He had the feeling that his chief was holding something back from him, even though he couldn't have said what it was and at the moment, he didn't really care either.

For a while he simply stared at the wall of his small room, unable to think clearly, let alone move. His thoughts were whirling, disconnected images floating in front of his inner eye - Balin how he had met him at his first day in the unit, always there if he was needed, always supportive to everyone. Young Ori, so eager to start his work and always full of positivity. Óin, how he always been concerned about their team, had helped where he could, had saved Thorin's life after the disaster at the _Pinecone_. He only just now remembered that he had never truly thanked the old medic for it.

And, of course, he thought of the way Balin had been outside work - when he had laughed at one of Frerin's stupid jokes, gotten roaring drunk for the possibly first and last time in his life at one particularly wild Christmas party, how he had always fretted about his younger brother and been the first to give them a small present for their fifth anniversary of getting together.

That they would all be gone now, reduced to nothing but ash...he couldn't believe it.

Thinking of Balin automatically brought back thoughts of Dwalin as well and for a while his fingers hovered over the display of his phone, tempted to dial his number and call him. Then, however, he thought of how he had felt after his own brother's death, how he would have preferred to pull the batteries out of his bloody phone and be left alone by calls. He also remembered feeling terribly, undeniably lost and how good it had been to have Dwalin's solid presence at his back. And now Dwalin had been left all alone to deal with a situation so much larger and more terrible than both of them would be able to handle alone. He should be there, should be doing anything he could for his partner, should try to comfort him, take off the worst edge of the hollowness that had to be spreading inside him now.

Without thinking, he grabbed his coat and stuffed his few belongings back in the duffel bags, the metal case once again securely tucked in his rucksack. A few moments later, after handing the key back at the reception, he left the hostel and was on the way to his and Dwalin's flat.

The minutes until he finally arrived seemed to stretch into infinity and Thorin was left to ponder just how he would react when seeing Dwalin again. For the first time in their relationship he truly had no idea what to say or what Dwalin's reaction would be to his sudden return. They had known each other so well, had been able to communicate almost without words and only now did he realise just how much he had distanced himself in the past few weeks. He could only hope that they would be able to work it out somehow once they were together again.

Thorin almost ran the last bit towards their big apartment building, going as fast as his knee allowed him to go, pushed by an unexplainable need to hurry. As soon as he had reached the right floor he searched for his own keys, but thought differently after a moment and lifted his hand to knock on the door instead.

"Dwalin?"

There was no reply, but the door swung back slightly, having been unlocked. Thorin stared at it wide-eyed for a second before he swallowed and reached out to give it a gentle push. Dread coiled in his stomach as he slowly opened the door and stepped inside, knowing that something wasn't right, wasn't as it should have been _at all_. The feeling only amplified when he looked at the apartment in front of him.

" _No_." he whispered quietly.

The living room was in shambles. One sofa, several chairs and the small living room table were upturned and on the floor, numerous items were scattered around and more than one of Dwalin's always so carefully guarded orchids was on the ground, flower pots in shambles, earth strewn all over and stems and leaves bent or broken. Thorin didn't even have time to take in the full damage before his sight was attracted by something else - splatters of blood on the floor, the carpet, the wall.

"No. No, no, no..." he said again, repeating the word endlessly as he bent over to examine it more closely, a part of him knowing that it was Dwalin's blood. It had to be. Whatever had happened, there had been a fight and his partner had not come out of it as winner, that much was clear. Thorin felt his hands starting to tremble again, looking for the nearest seat to sit down in and jumping away from it with a cry of dismay on his lips when he saw more blood stains on it.

Maybe Dwalin had been able to escape, was still on the run and needed help. He was shaking so strongly that it took him several tries, but he finally dialled the number of Dwalin's mobile phone, his throat closing up at the thought of the possibility that nobody might answer it. After a moment, however, a noise indicated that someone had indeed taken up his call the other end.

"Dwalin?" Thorin rasped, forcing out the word.

"Durinsson. What a _delight_. How's your knee?"

The world seemed to disappear beneath Thorin's feet and with a low sound from his lips he sank into the chair next to him. He would never forget this voice - deep and low, words as much a growl as real speech. Azog.

" _What have you done to him_?" Thorin whispered, almost not wanting to know the answer. There weren't many ways that Azog could have gotten hold of Dwalin's phone and each and every one of them didn't bode well for Dwalin.

"Done? Nothing much as of yet." The smile on Azog's face was almost audible. "But I'm afraid that might not last if you don't hurry up."

At his words a strange calm flooded Thorin all of a sudden. He could hear his heart beating loudly and at twice its normal speed and a distant part of his brain was still screaming in panic. The rest, however, had quieted down - everything was crystal clear and he was hyperaware of every single thing happening around him, including the trembling of his own hands.

"How do I know he's still alive?" he asked.

"Oh, you want proof? A moment." There was some rustling in the line and a grunt and then, Dwalin's voice. Thorin gripped the phone more tightly so that he thought he would break it any moment.

"Thorin?" Dwalin's voice sounded rough, but it was definitely _his_ and Thorin breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He was alive.

"Dwalin? Dwalin, I'm so sorry, I-"

"Thorin, listen. I'm at-"

There was a sudden sound in the line as the phone was snatched away from Dwalin's lips. Thorin could hear a shout and then, a moment later, Dwalin's scream that seemed to snake right into his mind and resound in his ears long after it had already stopped.

"You should tell your partner to mind his tongue, Durinsson. My people can get very...angry at such things."

"Don't you dare hurt him. I swear to god, if you do then I-" The heat of the rage that had started bubbling up somewhere in Thorin's chest was almost comforting.

"Or what? I doubt that you can do much, especially in your state, Durinsson. How long has it been since you were out in the field? Oh, I forgot." A quiet laugh came from Azog that made shivers run down Thorin's back. "Far too long, hasn't it. Anyway, to come down to business...we know that you have something of utter worth to us and we want it back. You know the documents I'm talking about?"

"Yes."

"We will text you a location in four hours' time. You should be there promptly with _all_ the documents if you want to have your partner back in one piece. _Alone_."

Azog didn't even give him an opportunity to reply before he cut the connection.

Thorin sat motionless for a while as if his body had forgotten how to move. Dwalin's scream was still in his mind, echoing there and mixing with Frerin's desperate shouts in his last moments. Old nightmares came back to haunt him, images of his brother's bloody corpse replaced by Dwalin's, burnt shadows stretching out their hands at him and screaming with Balin's voice, with Ori's, with Óin's.

A low moan escaped his throat as he buried his face in his hands. The maelstrom in his thoughts threatened to eat him up as he slowly began to put the pieces of the puzzle together - somehow, Azog must have gotten wind of the fact that he now possessed his uncle's and grandfather's documents, the ones that could bring him down in an instant if used right. Then he had responded by trying to kill as many members of the SWAT Team as he could and taking Dwalin.

And it was all Thorin's fault.

This time he was unable to do anything against the shaking that took over his body and he dug his fingernails into his scalp as he felt the air around him grow scarce. There was nothing left inside him apart from fear and an all-crushing guilt that took his breath as he began to feel dizzier by the moment, his thoughts hammering at him with the same words over and over again. _His fault._ His and his alone. If Dwalin, too, came to harm, he would never forgive himself.

It took a long time for the shaking and hyperventilating to subside and even when they did Thorin knew that they were both sitting at the edges of his mind, waiting to come out again every moment.

He slammed his fists on the table in front of him and screamed until his throat was raw.

All he knew was that he had to do _something_. Rage, helplessness and fear, not for him but for Dwalin, were mixing in his stomach and almost making him feel physically sick. Just to busy his hands he finally got up from his chair and started to take care of Dwalin's orchids, putting them upright again, trying to salvage as much as he could of those that had their stems and leaves broken. Those with shattered pots he leaned against a wall, saving as much of the earth as he was able to and sprinkling some water on them to keep them healthy.

All the while he was careful not to step on any of the blood on the floor. A distant part of his mind knew that he shouldn't be changing anything in the room, that this was a crime scene and he was likely obscuring important evidence. He didn't care. What was there to obscure anyway? It was clear who had done it and why, the details weren't important. At least not to him. All that counted was Dwalin and that he would get him back alive.

He was standing motionless in the room, dirt still under his fingernails, when his phone rang and Thorin stared at the display for a moment before picking up, somehow expecting to hear Azog's voice again.

"Durinsson, _what on earth are you doing_?" Thranduil was seemingly both annoyed and worried. "We're waiting."

"I'm at home." Thorin was surprised at how calm his own voice sounded.

"At home?" Thranduil's tone was incredulous. "I thought I told you to come here as soon as possible."

"Dwalin is gone. He-" Taking a deep breath, Thorin forced out the next words. "Azog took him."

There was silence at the other end after he had spoken. Then, in a tone as if Thranduil was praying that what he had just heard wasn't actually true: "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Thorin said quietly. "Azog...he picked up a call I made to Dwalin. I'm supposed to meet him in four hours somewhere."

"You'll do no such thing, Durinsson." Thranduil's voice was back at his commanding tone. "Instead you'll get your ass over here right now so that we can properly assess the situation and-"

"No." Thorin had clashed too often with his chief in his opinions for him to find it difficult to do so now. Besides, he was still on leave. "This is my fault. I will go and mend it. I can't-"

"Thorin, slow down!" He didn't even register that this was one of the few times that Thranduil had used his first name. His chief sounded visibly agitated. "What do you mean, 'it's your fault'?"

Thorin thought about explaining it to Thranduil, but somehow the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. How could he possibly put into words just how much he had done wrong? He had to fix it somehow, although he had no idea how. As he thought about it, the situation seemed to become more and more hopeless - this was big, far too big for him. He was distantly aware that Thranduil kept saying this name as he hadn't replied to anything he'd said in the past moments.

He took a deep breath, never having thought he would say the next words to his chief.

"I need help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, if you want to know what Daisy looks like - [this right here](http://img3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130720215418/thehungergames/images/3/31/Enobariatraining.png) is my faceclaim for her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had half a day off today so I wrote this within 24 hours. Because APPARENTLY I am not sane anymore and am having way too much fun with this story. Sheesh. 
> 
> Please note, emphasis on the warning for violence and (implied) torture in this chapter!

There were two and a half hours left until Azog would send him the location when Thorin arrived at the MOP headquarters. It was strange, coming back to the building that he hadn't seen in several weeks and that he had left in such disgrace the last time, even though he hadn't even truly been aware of it. Now he was it all the more, feeling the waves of guilt crashing over him as he stepped into the familiar rooms. Despite the later hour almost the entire unit was there and Thorin found it hard to tell how much they knew, whether the stares directed at him were accusing, pitying or both.

Dori seemed to have called Nori first thing after receiving the news and in an unusual display of brotherly affection Nori had his arm slung around his elder brother's shoulders in a quiet gesture of comfort. Both of them were visibly shaken and their eyes rimmed red. Thorin didn't dare meet their gazes, knowing that this catastrophe had ultimately come about because of him. Glóin was one of the few who wasn't there and Thorin figured that he must have gone home to be with his family. Not having Dwalin here was more than strange and Thorin shuddered when he thought of where he might be right now and what state he was in. His scream was still echoing in Thorin's head.

All members of the team seemed to be in shock about what happened and more than one of them had clearly been crying. Balin had already been part of the unit when most of them had started and pretty much everyone had been treated by Óin in one capacity or the other. And Ori...everyone had liked the young man with his overwhelming enthusiasm and positivity for his task. To lose them all in one day was more than surreal. Thorin still refused to count Dwalin amongst the losses as well, but he could see that others weren't as sure.

He felt odd as he looked at them. Somehow his mind and thinking seemed to be clearer than it had been in weeks, but the terrible clarity also extended to a reflection of his own doing. Guilt was warring inside him with a murderous rage directed at Azog and Smaug, although there seemed to be a part of him that was watching it all from a weird distance, as if he still wasn't sure that this was truly happening. Dori had once told him that his detachment had to do with his own way of coping with grief and Thorin guessed that it was true in a way - maybe it was the only way for him not to simply collapse under everything that was happening.

Even Thranduil looked shocked by what the events that had transpired this day although he seemed to be as much in control of the situation as ever, his eyes travelling over the combined members of his force and stopping when they caught sight of Thorin.

"Durinsson." he said quietly with a short nod. "In my office."

Thorin made his way past the others, sparing the time to grip Nori's shoulder briefly and nod at him. Although he tried not to feel like a hypocrite doing so the gesture seemed to be welcome as Nori looked up and gave him the shadow of a thankful smile.

It was almost like any other of their briefings although the air of gravity that hung over them was unmistakeable. Thorin had told Thranduil most of his side of the events including the story of the documents on the phone in short already and his chief lost no time in filling him in on the events at the headquarters. Apparently Tauriel had been the one to fend off worse - she had kept her head and ordered the second of their vans to be inspected before it was used whilst Thranduil was able to quickly unmask the alleged hostage situation as a ruse meant to lure them out. The explosive charges they had discovered on the van were set so that they would explode a certain time after the motor was started. Dáin'd had the thankless task of going out to the site of the explosion and confirm that it was indeed one of their vans from the few things that remained.

After Thranduil was finished Thorin told him again about how he had found their apartment and seen that Dwalin was missing after what had obviously been a fight. He also described the phone conversation with Azog once more in as much detail as he remembered.

"I'll be there just as Azog wants me to. With the documents." he finally finished. _And even if it costs my own life, I'll get Dwalin out of there_.

"You're not going in there alone." Thranduil's voice held the full weight of his authority. "I'll send a team out with you and we'll arrest Azog."

"He'll kill Dwalin before we can get to him." Thorin was surprised at how dispassionate his voice sounded when he voiced the unthinkable. As if he weren't talking about seeing his own heart die.

"This is a simple hostage rescue operation. You've been on more than one yourself, you know how these things work. Our team is trained for those cases."

"No." Thorin replied quietly, unfazed by the anger he saw beginning to burn in Thranduil's eyes. "This isn't a normal operation. Azog will know we're coming; he has likely already planned for the entire team to be there. The documents are his only weakness and-"

"Quite right, Mr. Durinsson, quite right."

The door to the office had opened during Thorin's words and a man in an immaculate grey suit stepped through. Gandalf Tharkun gave them both a non-committal smile and proceeded to seat himself in one of the chairs in front of Thranduil's desk. Thranduil just rolled his eyes, obviously not too pleased with the man's sudden appearance. Gandalf, however, seemed to be entirely unfazed by his disdain and proceeded to speak.

"If what you have told us is true, Thorin, then those documents in question will be our only real weapon against Azog and Smaug. Sending in an entire team and letting it cumulate in a shoot-out that will likely kill officer Barkhun and probably more won't be the solution. I concur that we should meet Azog's demands in that we send you in alone, however, we should arrange for suitable backup in my opinion..."

His little speech left both Thranduil and Thorin quiet for a moment as they digested what he had just said.

"So you suggest I sent my officer, _who hasn't been active in the field for six years_ , on a suicide mission?" Thranduil's voice was icy. "If remember correctly, the last time Durinsson was in Azog's vicinity alone it didn't end too well."

Gandalf simply lifted an eyebrow as he looked at Thorin and his chief.

"This time will be much more carefully planned than the last. I'm quite sure it will be alright."

Thranduil rolled his eyes again and Thorin was glad that his exasperation and anger wasn't directed against him for a change. Although he felt more and more as if he was being treated like a child as they simply continued talking over his head.

"And I'm quite sure it won't." Thranduil replied. "Last time was just as well planned and Azog literally blew our plan to pieces. I won't lose any more of my men today. We're going in with the full team."

"And sacrifice Dwalin?" Thorin didn't care anymore that he was butting into a conversation between two officers of much higher ranking than him, but his rage had reached a critical point. "I'll be going in with the documents. _Alone_. And I will get Dwalin out. End of story."

"Of _your_ story, perhaps." Gandalf said with a tone of amusement in his voice that send Thorin's blood to boil. "You will need backup. And we will have to consider what to do with the documents. We can't let them fall back into Azog's hands just like that."

Thorin was close to shouting at him that he didn't truly care about the documents anymore, that getting Dwalin back alive was much more important than this, but he reigned in his temper at the last minute.

"What do you suggest?" he asked quietly instead. Anger simply seemed to roll off Gandalf as if it had never existed. Might as well hear the old man out and keep Thranduil from working himself up as he was prone to in arguments.

"That we do safety copies of them, and more than one. You take the originals to Azog and hand them over; although copies are typically allowed as evidence Azog's lawyers would pick their credibility apart in a moment, so we will be unable to use them in court anymore. However, they will serve us as a basis for future investigations and do their job."

Even Thranduil nodded at his suggestion, seeing the wisdom of it. Thorin wasn't as convinced; Azog wasn't stupid and he would know that they would try and make safety copies of the documents before handing them over to him. He just fervently hoped that Dwalin wouldn't be the one who had to suffer for it even though he knew that hope was likely in vain.

"It would still be easier if we simply walked in and got Dwalin out as soon as possible." Thranduil said dryly.

"No, I'll do it." Thorin felt like he was constantly repeating himself. "If you bring in backup, make sure they only get into the building once I've made sure that Dwalin is safe."

Gandalf nodded, knowing that this was what he had been suggesting all along. Thranduil looked as if he had just bitten into a lemon, but he knew that ultimately Gandalf had the superior authority over both of them and he would have to adhere to his orders.

"Good, I will brief the team. I'll ask Balin to-" Thranduil's face darkened as he bit off his own words in the middle of the sentence. "I'll have the documents copied as fast as we can do it."

Thorin avoided the rest of the team as long as possible, not wanting to be there when Thranduil told them about the documents and the role Thorin had played in the demise of their comrades. He wondered if he'd ever be able to look them in the eyes again. Instead he went downstairs to the storage rooms, getting his old SWAT gear out of the locker that he still used for training purposes from time to time.

It was strange putting on the old gear again. Thorin didn't add the helmet or gloves to his own outfit, knowing that Azog would order him to take them off anyway. It was still worth taking a chance with the rest of the gear, however, and take whatever meagre protection it might offer him. Of course he left off the weapons too, only taking a standard handcuff key and a small concealed knife with him, so he could cut loose whatever restraints they had used on Dwalin. He was almost grateful when his phone finally signalled that he had just received a new text message. It contained nothing but a single address.

When he arrived in the garage the rest of the team had already assembled in the one van that was left. Thorin didn't dare meet their gazes as he took his seat, but to his surprise he felt a hand on his arm as he sat down, looking into Tauriel's eyes as he turned around. She smiled slightly at him, squeezing his arm quickly before she began to settle into her own headspace that she needed for the mission again. The message, however, was clear. _Good luck_.

Silence reigned in the van and none of them could escape the image of how their team members had ridden in a car of the same make not long before. Thorin wondered what it would be like if their vehicle suddenly turned into a ball of flames. At least it would be a quick death, he thought. The drive didn't take too long even though they stopped a few blocks away from the site Azog had indicated, an old warehouse in an industrial district that was mostly deserted at this time of night.

Thorin took a deep breath before he opened the door and got out of the van, leaving the SWAT team to quietly make their own way towards the building without being noticed. A hand held him back before he started walking and he turned around, only to stare into his chief's face.

"Are you sure, Durinsson?" There was still only little trace of emotion in Thranduil's voice, but the question was genuine. If Thorin declined, he would order to storm the building right now. And likely seal Dwalin's death with it, Thorin thought. He swallowed.

"Yes."

*

Dwalin groaned.

He was unable to tell how much time had passed since Azog had received the call from Thorin. Somehow the minutes seemed to have stretched into hours and he thought that at least a day must have passed if his muddled perception was anything to go by. It could as well have been only half an hour. After first waking up he had been flickering in and out of consciousness for a while and since he seemed to be kept in the same lightless room all the time it was impossible for him to determine the time of day or night.

For a while he had thought that they would kill him, until his pain-addled mind told him that they would have done so immediately had it been their plan. Azog's men, however, had been more than thorough in questioning him whether he knew anything about certain documents and Dwalin couldn't help but think back to the events of the _Pinecone_ six years ago and only stopped when he still told them that _he didn't know_ even when two of his fingers were already broken and the floor was slick with the blood dripping from where the knife was sticking in his leg. At least he was still mostly conscious now although he rather wished he weren't.

Dwalin could feel the anger bubbling up inside him when he thought back of how simple it had been for them to take him. He had heard a knock on the door and assumed it was Thorin who had finally returned - but instead of his partner, another face had stared at him as soon as he had opened.

He remembered her name now, also remembered that he had met her once before, a decade or so ago, during a night out that had ended rather pleasantly for both of them. Had he only known who she was back then...but he hadn't and neither had she. Dwalin would never have thought that their second meeting would end so differently. She had looked at him, smiled slightly and then rammed her knee into his stomach.

A minute later he had been trying desperately to hold on to consciousness as she slammed the back of his head against the window. His grabbling fingers had found one of the shards of his flower pots and he swung it around in an uncoordinated arch. Unfortunately it only nicked Daisy's cheek, but she sprang back, giving him a moment to catch his breath. Seconds later a knife had appeared in her own hand and she grinned again, licking the blood from her lips.

Dwalin was a good fighter, one of the best. It wasn't vanity or an inflated ego - he knew he was, otherwise he wouldn't be able to hold his current job. And yet she had seemed to be on par with him. A moment of inattention had brought him a slash across his face from nose across his brow to his forehead, letting blood run down his forehead into one of his eyes and making it hard for him to see. Daisy hadn't given him a single moment to recover, reaching out and smashing his head down face first into the table in front of them. Dwalin had heard a crack and even without the blinding pain he knew his nose was broken. He had been vaguely aware of his phone ringing and a number of people rummaging around and searching his apartment, but the fact that he was being overpowered and quite possibly about to die took prevalence in his mind.

Just as Daisy was lifting his head up and was about to smash it down again he scraped together all his remaining strength and turned around with a roar, temporarily able to stun her by throwing her against a chest of drawers. He followed her quickly, nailing her hand against the cheap wood by driving the pottery shard through it that had somehow still been in his hands. As if it was nothing, she growled and used her other hand to grab his shirt and pull him close, sinking her teeth into his ear even as his hands closed around her throat. He screamed when she only increased the pressure instead of letting go, until the pain grew so strong that he felt his grip around her throat fail.

She lost no time in coming after him again, spitting out the top half of his ear and wiping the blood from her mouth even as she was breathing heavily. Dwalin's right eye was too clotted with blood by now for him to see and after another few vicious kicks to his chest and abdomen that surely broke a few ribs he had finally gone down, almost grateful when unconsciousness took him.

He was aware of something changing around him now, the sound of a voice outside and steps approaching. Azog. Dwalin knew that, should he ever make it out of this alive, the voice would follow him into his nightmares. He didn't even want to think what hearing it once again had done to Thorin, especially after Dwalin hadn't been fast enough with giving him the only hint to his location he had been able to discern (an old company logo on the wall) and paid for it with a dislocated elbow. He prayed that his partner wasn't stupid enough to give in to Azog's demands and come here alone.

Daisy had come as well, watching him with cold and almost dispassionate eyes, so unlike the wild fighter he had seen. Dwalin couldn't help a small sliver of grim satisfaction surging through him when he saw the stitches on her cheek and the bandage around her palm.

"Get the demolition charges ready and bring him out into the hall." Azog's voice sounded almost business-like, but Dwalin reared back at the implication of his words. _Demolition charges_. They were planning on blowing up the building around them and everyone who would still be inside after Azog had received what he wanted.

"Thorin." he whispered. _No_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE WRITING BARE-HANDED FIGHTS THAT ARE MORE BRAWLS THAN FIGHTS SO MUCH DAMMIT (I hadn't actually planned on adding the Dwalin-Daisy fight. But it was just WAY TOO MUCH FUN TO WRITE and so I did xD)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray, here it is! Reminder that the warnings for violence/torture are still standing. There aren't really that many happy people in this chapter, uhmm....also this chapter was for some reason a little harder to write than the previous ones.

There was nothing on the outside of the old multi-level warehouse that could give away what was going on inside. The large main gates which had to lead directly to the storage rooms were barred and Thorin was unable to hear any sound from behind them. He rounded the building, trying to suppress the memories beginning to well up in his head from the _Pinecone_. This was different. It had to be.

An open door finally awaited him on the back side of the building. Thorin was unable to detect anyone on watch although he was sure they were there. Azog would never leave the place unguarded. Taking a deep breath he set a foot inside the building, always wary of any booby traps. The light coming from the few bulbs on the ceiling was dim and barely enough to reach the floor. Both walls and the ground were bare, bearing testimony to the building's age and stage of neglect.

There was a musty smell of disuse and age in the air that was exactly the same as it had been in the _Pinecone_. Thorin drew another deep breath, but the inner walls he had built up to tune out the events from six years ago instead of dealing with them came tumbling down in response to the vehemence with which the memories were battering against it. He stumbled, dropped the bag he was carrying and leaned against the wall, his knee suddenly brimming with pain like it hadn't in years. Everything was the same - the same air, the same bare walls, the same dim lights and he thought he was back there once again. He could almost hear the steps on the floor as they dragged him along, taste the dust from the explosion on his tongue and feel the stabbing pain of his broken ribs.

All of a sudden, there was no air left in his lungs. The fear was paralysing his body and he couldn't move, couldn't _breathe_ , the images from the past hammering into his brain as he squeezed his eyes shut in an effort of trying to escape them. It just made it worse.

He was digging his fingertips into small dents of the wall next to him, trying to ground himself in reality again and gain back the control over his breathing. The events of the past kept assaulting his mind and he grabbled blindly for something to keep him sane, something to keep him going. Amidst all the fear and panic he finally found something, a face, a name, someone he was doing all of this for - _Dwalin_.

As he was gasping for breath he tried to hold on to everything that saying this name brought up inside him - the memory of warmth, of pain shared as much as the joy that had been theirs, of countless moments spent side by side, each of them special in their own right, precious because they belonged only to the two of them and made special because it was Dwalin he had spent them with. He told himself that Dwalin would die if he didn't move _now_ , yelled at his body and mind to obey and not fail the one he had realised he would love until the end of their lives like he had failed everybody else.

Slowly, he was able to catch his breath again. Thorin leaned his forehead against the wall, its coldness helping to ground him. He ordered his body to drag itself up again, pick up the bag and ignore the scratching of the memories on the doors of his mind. One foot in front of the other. Breathe in and breathe out again. Establish a rhythm, like Dori had shown him. Thorin banned the pictures of Ori those thoughts brought to his mind and concentrated on what he was doing instead, mentally rehearsing the shambles of the plan they had been able to come up with in the short time until now.

"Thorin, you alright?" It was Dáin's voice that he could hear over the com now. The leader of their second team had returned to the headquarters just in time to receive the news about Dwalin and offered to take guidance tonight as the highest active officer in rank present without Dwalin who'd had advanced to Thorin's former position as head of the SWAT unit in the field six years ago.

"Yeah." he grunted back, the effect slightly spoiled by the fact that he was still rather breathless.

"Good." Dáin knew as well as him that Thorin wouldn't have told him the truth apart from when he was practically dying. There was a short moment of silence and then the current team leader added: "Take care."

Thorin murmured something unintelligible in response, focusing all his attention on the way in front of him instead. He still felt like he was being watched, as if dozens of invisible eyes were directing their gaze at him. Suppressing a shudder he doggedly put one foot in front of the other, going through everything that was important over and over again in his head.

After what seemed like ages to him but was likely no more than a minute at most the corridor made a turn and Thorin was met with an open door. His senses told him that there were several people waiting there. One of them would without a doubt be Azog. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, trying to ready himself for coming face to face once more with the same man who had tortured him and had a hand in killing half of his family and more than one friend.

Taking care to eliminate every hint of a limp from his gait he finally entered the room, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

"Durinsson, finally." Azog's voice was exactly the same as it had been on the phone - deep, cold and seemingly utterly in control of the situation, even though a faint hint of glee was weaved through his words. "So you're still standing."

Thorin took a moment to take in the situation, to mentally map out the space around him and counting the people distributed throughout the large storage area. There were nine people in the room overall, manning all the possible exits and with their weaponry openly at hand. Their stances told Thorin that all of them were trained fighters, obviously experienced in this line of work. Should it come to a shootout it would be a costly one for both sides, no doubt.

Only when he had taken up everything that he could did he allow himself to look at Dwalin, knowing that it would be hard for him to maintain his distant demeanour whilst doing so.

The first and most important fact was that his partner was clearly still alive, even though Azog and Daisy were standing next to him on a small raised platform at the opposite wall. He was gagged and sitting on a chair, his hands probably cuffed behind him and ankles bound with several zip ties to the chair's legs. There was blood on Dwalin's neck and even more so on his face and leg where Thorin could see the end of a knife sticking out, placed skilfully to avoid any major blood vessels. Thorin winced internally when he saw the deep cut running across his features, the swollen and obviously broken nose and the mangled right ear and elbow. A strange longing suddenly flashed through him, one that had no place here, to wipe away the blood and grime and gently run his fingers over Dwalin's wounds, telling him that everything would be alright, that they would be fine, just fine even though he knew that it was nothing but a pretty lie.

Dwalin's eyes were wide and even over the distance Thorin could see the pain in them, both physical and reaching beyond it. He wondered whether Dwalin knew that Balin was dead, but there was no telling. He could see Dwalin shaking his head slightly as he saw him, as if he was trying to tell him something. It took Thorin every last bit of barely recovered strength to get himself together and speak to Azog.

"I have what you want." he said, voice level but still loud enough to carry throughout the room, lifting the bag in his hand with the metal case and documents in it.

"Not so fast, Durinsson."

At a gesture from Azog two of his men stepped forward, weapons raised and pointed at Thorin as another one quickly searched him for any weapons, thankfully not finding the small hidden knife inside his clothes. Thorin thought it an altogether fruitless gesture - the small calibre gun in Daisy's hand which was pressed against Dwalin's temple was a far more effective threat to him than anything endangering his own life could ever be.

"Your com. Take it out. Slowly." Azog snarled.

There was no use in defying him and it wasn't like Thorin hadn't thought this command would come. With some deliberately slow and controlled movements that also served to hide the shaking in his fingers he removed the com piece from his ear, trying not to wince as it was snatched from his hand. At least they didn't destroy it immediately like they had in the _Pinecone_ , placing it in a small box instead that was likely soundproof. Thorin just hoped that they wouldn't order him to strip out of the rest of his gear. However, Azog seemed content for now, shifting his attention to the bag Thorin was still holding in one hand.

"Put the bag on the ground and open it." he ordered.

The adrenaline was thrumming through Thorin's body, making everything appear crystal-clear and each sensation twice as sharp. The bag seemed to chafe at his hands as he let go and hunched down to open it. Thorin was aware that everyone in the room was watching each one of his movements intently, ready to step in at the slightest hint of something going wrong.

"Open it." Was there a hint of tension in Azog's voice? Thorin fervently hoped so. Maybe he thought that Thorin had hidden a weapon or inside or a bomb that would go off once someone set their fingers to the mechanism. A short glance showed Thorin that Dwalin was watching him as intently as the rest of Azog's henchmen, although there was a shimmer of desperation in his eyes. Thorin tried not to think about the pain his partner had to be in, about everything he must have gone through in the last few hours, but it proved almost impossible.

As soon as he had opened the metal case and it was clear that there was nothing more in there than several sheets of paper, the box was pulled out of his grip and handed over to Azog who lost no time in starting to leaf through them. Thorin saw his eyes widen as he picked up on the wealth of information that was contained inside, but he quickly directed his own gaze back at Dwalin now that Azog was momentarily distracted. He tried to put everything he was feeling in a single glance - the anger at himself and Azog, the immense regret, the fear and the reassurance that he would get him out of here. Dwalin didn't break their eye contact once, slowly trying to soundlessly mouth a word at him through the gag in a moment where Daisy, too, seemed to be distracted by the papers in her employer's hands. It took Thorin a few moments to decipher it.

_Trap_.

Thorin just nodded, not wanting to give his partner away and cause him any further pain. Of course it was a trap - they had always known it would be. That didn't mean he'd come unprepared.

"You have the documents." Thorin was glad that his voice sounded firm and betrayed nothing of his inner turmoil. "Now let him go."

Azog smiled, carefully closing the metal case again and handing it over to a man standing behind him who stowed it away in a briefcase that he was carrying.

"Not so fast, Durinsson. Neither you nor I are stupid - I know that you have made safety copies, and likely more than one set."

Thorin remained silent, trying to ignore the feeling of uneasiness churning through him. Of course he hadn't thought he would get away so easily, but that hadn't kept the glimmer of hope inside him from glowing. Now he would have to play Azog's game, for better or worse.

"You will have them destroyed as well." Azog continued, his eyes never leaving Thorin's face.

"And what if I refuse?" Thorin asked quietly. "If you kill me, you will never know where they are. If you kill Dwalin, I will refuse to tell you as well." For if the latter happened, he would have nothing else to lose.

Anger flared up in Azog's eyes, bright and hot. He clearly hadn't expected Thorin to talk back at him. With a quick move he stood next to Dwalin, his fingers closing around the hilt of the knife. It was too late for Thorin to shout out a warning, which wouldn't have helped in any case - Azog gave the knife a slight twist and Dwalin roared with pain. Thorin was unable to hide the wince at the sound, closing his eyes and looking away as he was no longer able to glance at his partner and the way he breathed raggedly through the gag in his mouth.

"Who said anything about killing? You should know better than most that there are other ways of making someone talk."

Thorin offered no further resistance, at least not for the moment. He resisted the urge to run his fingers over the secret pocket in the trousers of his tactical gear, the one that held a small com. Thranduil had told him to only signal when the situation was clear - two taps with his finger and everything had gone smoothly and he would be coming out with Dwalin, freeing the way for the unit to storm it and keep Azog from escaping. Three taps for him having secured Dwalin, but needing help in getting him out. And four taps for when everything went south and they should storm the building immediately.

As hard as it was for him to admit it at the moment, Azog was right - his threat of hurting Dwalin was the only thing that truly moved Thorin and would keep him under control. He took a deep breath, resisting the temptation to end everything with a few taps on the hidden com, reminding himself that Dwalin might die if he did so. It was the reason he had gone in alone in the first place after all.

"What do you want?" Thorin finally grated out after it became clear that Azog would wait for him to speak.

"I know there is a SWAT team waiting outside. Pick up your com again and tell them to bring the safety copies here as fast as possible. One member, coming to the entrance of the building where my people will be waiting for them to pick up the documents. No tricks, or I will make sure that _both_ of you die the slowest death you can imagine."

"The documents aren't here." Thorin's mouth was dry as he voiced the lie, hoping it wouldn't be obvious from his face. At least now he knew why they hadn't destroyed his com earlier. Azog's fingers tightened around the knife again, but he didn't move, not yet, assessing whether Thorin was telling the truth or not.

"Then we will wait until they are. There is more than enough time, at least for me."

Thorin saw that he had no choice but to take the offered com and put it back into his ear again. As soon as he indicated that he was there, Dáin's frantic voice sounded through the connection. Thorin cut him short, always aware that Azog would be able to hear every single word of his part of the conversation. He relayed Azog's message almost word by word, starting to breathe a little easier only when Azog let go of the knife's hilt and took a step back from Dwalin.

The wait was unbearable. Thorin had to consciously keep his fingers from caressing the hidden pocket with the second com in it and force his thundering heart to slow down. He could feel the sweat collecting in the back of his neck and his mouth dry out as the minutes passed. His eyes frantically searched for Dwalin's, hoping that his partner would somehow be able to read inside them that not all hope was lost, they were still within the limits of the weak little plan he had devised with Thranduil.

It seemed to take an eternity until another man entered the building behind Thorin, a small black duffel bag in his hands that Azog once again made Thorin open as a precaution against any possible hidden charges inside. As soon as it was confirmed that these were indeed all parts of the safety copy Thorin had to hand his com back again and watched as it was ground into small pieces under the heel of the man in front of him.

"I have given you all that you wanted." Thorin said with a calm that he didn't feel. He wondered whether Azog was aware that they had worked hard to make more than one copy of everything and then guessed that he probably was. What had happened just now had been more to confirm Azog's power over everyone involved than anything else. "Your turn."

Azog's eyes narrowed, but he nodded at Daisy who finally removed her fingers from the safety of the gun and the weapon itself from the side of Dwalin's head. Thorin saw how Dwalin relaxed just ever so slightly and felt his own heart give way in a surge of relief. But it wasn't over. Not yet.

"Remember, Durinsson. Should any of this information ever be made public..." Azog cocked his head and a small predatory smile stretched his lips. "You know that there is no escape. Not from me."

Thorin didn't deign to answer, his entire body alert as he tried to discern what would happen next. This part had always been the large unknown. His mind provided him with any number of possibilities - from Azog simply letting them go and retreating to Azog killing Dwalin or him or both of them. To his surprise, however, there was no cry for violence, no command to open fire - instead Azog called his people to him and made for the exit on the opposite site of the storage hall, Daisy right on his heels.

If he had been able to, Thorin would have run - instead he willed himself to move as fast as possible towards Dwalin who was already frantically trying to free his hands behind his back, but seemed to be hampered by his mangled elbow. Whilst walking Thorin finally tapped the hidden com inside his trousers, determined not to let Azog escape. Two taps. He hoped he would be able to get Dwalin out on his own.

As soon as he reached him Thorin sank down on one knee beside his partner, holding his face in his hands and touching him frantically, as if his fingers alone could soothe Dwalin's pain. There were the first sounds of gunshots outside and he could hear steps approaching.

"Dwalin, I'm sorry." he murmured frantically. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry."

With a few quick movements he worked the gag loose and managed to get the tied cloth out of Dwalin's mouth until it hung around his neck, bloody and wet. Dwalin coughed, the movement obviously paining him as he shuddered when he tried to talk. His voice was deep and hoarse, and Thorin barely understood him.

"Thorin, the building is rigged."

Thorin's eyes widened, cursing himself that he hadn't thought of it earlier. Azog and his people would put up a fight to lure in the entire SWAT unit and then disappear, finishing what they hadn't been able to achieve earlier the same day - kill them all in one big blast. He frantically scrabbled for the hidden com in his pocket. It seemed to take an eternity for him to get to it, but he finally held it in his hand, just before a few members of the team entered the building through the door he had come through, their team mates still engaged with Azog in a different part.

"Dáin, Team Alpha, it's a trap! Get out of here, NOW!" he hoped that they would still be able to hear at least the most important bits over the sound of the gunfire. At least the steps he had heard approaching were disappearing again.

It took him far too long to finally nestle out his little knife and the handcuff keys he had hidden in his gear so that he could cut Dwalin loose and unlock the cuffs around his wrists, trying not to pay attention to how wrong some of his fingers looked. After a moment of consideration he left the knife in Dwalin's leg where it was - it was a bad wound, but there would be no time to bind it and stop the blood loss should he pull it out now. He knew there was a medical team waiting outside. Now they just had to get there in time.

"Can you walk?"

Dwalin gave him a slightly lopsided, bloodied grin and Thorin was once again reminded that he didn't seem to know about his brother's death yet.

"I can try."

"Then you better try fast or we'll be roast beef soon."

Thorin pulled him up from the chair with much more roughness than he would have liked, at least trying to care not to touch Dwalin's dislocated looking elbow. He could feel his partner trembling with exhaustion and pain as Thorin threw his arm around his shoulders, although the only sound he gave was a groan. Dwalin was leaning on him much more heavily than he would have liked, but Thorin made no sound of protest as his knee started to object at the additional weight after the first few steps.

It soon became clear that they wouldn't make it in time. The sound of the gunfire had stopped by now and Thorin knew they didn't have long before Azog or whoever was responsible would trigger the charges as soon as they were far enough away. He could only hope that Dáin and the others had made it out in time.

He gritted his teeth. The next part would be unpleasant.

"We need to run, Dwalin." he pressed out. "We'll have to get out of here."

Dwalin just grunted, but increased his efforts to go faster. Thorin leaned in and took more of his weight upon himself, until he more pulled Dwalin along than anything else, almost his entire weight resting on Thorin's shoulder now. In the end he broke into a run, Dwalin stumbling next to him and unable to hold in the sounds of pain any longer. Thorin was of half a mind to shout along, his knee hurting so fiercely as if he was being shot again. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore but to get Dwalin out alive.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop, here it is! (And a new B&B chapter isn't too far behind either, you'll get that too before the week is out) Some more angst, but it will be one of the last uber-angsty chapters, I promise :) (I sorely feel the need for some more happiness now myself haha...).

The building went up in flames just as they had managed to round the nearest corner that would get them out of the most immediate danger. The noise, however, was still deafening and for a few minutes afterwards Thorin was unable to hear much of the world around him. He was still running as fast as he could, sweat coming down his face as the heat from the explosions seemed to make him boil inside his gear. He could only hope that the rest of the team had gotten out safely as well.

Dwalin collapsed in his arms as soon as they came to a standstill and Thorin sank to the ground next to him, his leg unable to bear his weight any longer. With his half-deaf ears he could hear shouting and saw several figures running towards him, their faces familiar. The only thing he truly had eyes for at the moment, however, was Dwalin. His partner was still breathing steadily although a little too fast, his eyes closed and features drawn up in pain. The fingers of his one hand were unconsciously curled around Thorin's and Thorin was holding on tightly, not willing to loosen his own grip even as the medics finally came and gently tried to take Dwalin away from him.

His gaze didn't leave Dwalin once even as one of the medics sat down next to him and insisted on measuring his blood pressure and pulse. There was a feeling of emptiness inside him when the ambulance with Dwalin inside left and he only became aware that someone was talking to him when his shoulder was being shaken roughly. It was strange to look at the medic's face and not see Óin. Her mouth seemed to move, but he couldn't understand what she was saying. He shook his head to get the remaining buzzing out of his ears.

"Sorry?" he said and the medic frowned.

"Sir, I was asking if you could please remove your gear so I can have a look at your leg. You seemed to have trouble walking earlier."

"No, I'm fine." Thorin tried a smile but from her deepening frown he could see that he wasn't being very successful at it. "I- sorry, can I just? A moment. Alone." Suddenly he found it hard to breathe.

She didn't move, but seemed to become more concerned instead. Thorin thought he would scream if she came any closer. A part of him knew she was only worried and there to help, but it didn't make it any better.

"Please. I just need-" He shook his head again, wishing she would just go away. "Please." he repeated helplessly.

"I think we should leave him alone for a moment. You can look at him in a minute." A new voice was there and Thorin looked up to see Tauriel, a faint, sad smile on her face as she put a hand on the medic's shoulder. There was a short argument between them but Thorin didn't even hear it anymore, burying his head in his arms as all the emotions of the day and night came flooding back over him.

All he could think for a while was _please let Dwalin be fine please please **please**_ , the words swirling around in a never-ending loop in his head. At the same time he felt dread at the prospect of going to the hospital, knowing that neither of them would have an easy time with their next conversation. Especially should he have to tell him that Balin was dead.

After a while the carousel of his thoughts was slowly grinding to a standstill again and with almost mechanical movements he began to take off his gear. His knee was swollen and he could feel the heat radiating from it even through the heavy fabric of his pants. Something inside him still coiled back at the thought of anyone touching him at the moment.

"Here." A hand appeared in his field of view, holding a cool pack. Thorin raised his eyes and saw that Tauriel had come back, although there was no trace of the medic. He took the pack out of her hand and pressed it against his knee, almost sighing in relief when the cold began to creep through the fabric and under his skin. Tauriel watched him, the expression in her eyes difficult to read.

"You need a few more minutes?" she asked.

Thorin shook his head and after a moment of hesitation, she sat down next to him.

"Sorry for earlier." he told her with what he hoped was an apologetic smile. "I just-"

"Don't worry." Tauriel cut him off with a gesture of her hand. "I know the feeling. Sometimes you simply..."

"Yeah." Thorin nodded, remembering that Tauriel'd had her own bit of a difficult past to chew on before she joined the SWAT team and met Arwen through her work. For a while both of them were quiet, lost in their own thoughts before he finally scraped up the courage to ask her the question that had been burning on his tongue for quite a while.

"Did everybody get out in time?"

Tauriel nodded and relief flooded his mind.

"Yes, they're all fine, thanks to your warning. How did you know?"

"Dwalin told me." he said quietly, not wanting to remember those last desperate minutes inside when he had tried to cut Dwalin loose and get him away from the building in time.

Tauriel hesitantly placed a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly when he didn't move away from her touch. Her voice was gentle when she started talking talked again.

"So what happened inside? Thranduil didn't want to tell us much and he said the connection was interrupted for most of the time anyway."

Thorin knew that he wasn't really supposed to tell her before the debrief that would surely come soon, but at the same time he felt the need to tell someone what had happened, the need to hear the reassurance that he had done the right thing, at least this one time.

Tauriel didn't interrupt him once while he was talking and Thorin caught himself thinking that he had forgotten what a good listener she could be. She remained quiet for a moment after he had finished, processing the information he had just given her. He was thankful that she didn't mention the deaths of their team mates or Dwalin's current state to him - he still wasn't sure how he would ever be able to cope with it. Then she filled him in on what had happened whilst he had been busy getting Dwalin out alive.

"Azog and all of his people escaped. We had secured the perimeter, but somehow they managed to slip through yet again - Thranduil was furious and he looked like he was close to just grabbing a rifle himself and running in after Azog."

"Fuck." Thorin clenched his fist, trying to fight the anger and disappointment welling up inside him. Azog had escaped yet again. The only positive result about this outing had been that they had been able to get Dwalin back alive and even though in Thorin's eyes that was one of the most important things, he still couldn't help his rage at the fact that Azog had gotten away once more.

"So what will you do about the documents?" Tauriel asked him and Thorin frowned, having thought about the issue itself a little already. He wasn't sure how much Tauriel knew about the documents in question and what they represented, so he decided to be careful of what exactly he told her.

"I'm not sure." he replied honestly. He was now loathe to make decisions on his own anymore, suddenly only too aware of the consequences it could have for everyone around him. "Azog was right, of course we have more than one safety copy. I'll leave it to Gandalf and Thranduil to decide what to do. I'm done with it."

He hadn't known the words were true until he actually spoke them. Somehow, the sight of the others mourning and of Dwalin in pain because of something _he_ had done had changed something within him - he still felt the pull of the obsession and the urge to make things right, to punish those who were responsible for everything. However, there was also the terrible knowledge in his mind now of what _had_ happened, of what his actions had already wrought and the absolute surety that, on his own, he would only make it worse.

Tauriel just nodded in response, agreeing with his decision. Another set of footsteps approached them and when Thorin looked up he saw Dáin, face streaked with sweat and dirt and still slightly out of breath. His eyes flickered back and forth between Tauriel and him until he decided to speak, smiling apologetically.

"You alright?" he asked in Thorin's direction and Thorin simply nodded. Suddenly he felt much too tired to talk about any of the myriads of thoughts swirling around in his head.

"Is there any word on Dwalin's condition yet?" Thorin looked at Dáin, knowing that his old friend wouldn't lie to him, not about a matter so grave.

"There hasn't really been any news from the hospital yet but last thing I heard he was stable and not too badly off considering what he went through." Thorin could feel the sympathy for both of them in Dáin's voice and felt the corner of his lips twitch in the attempt of a small grateful smile.

"Thanks. Tauriel's already told me how it went. Is everyone in the unit okay?" He had heard it from Tauriel before but somehow it seemed only right to show Dáin that he still cared about their team.

"Yeah, they're fine. We managed to get out just in time, courtesy to you warning. I'm pretty sure it would have ended much worse without it."

"Thank Dwalin for it, not me." This time, Thorin almost didn't stumble on the name. "And Thranduil, for having the idea with the secret com."

"Stop putting yourself down. _You_ kept your head enough to warn us." Dáin grabbed his shoulder and gave him a warm smile, one that Thorin returned after a moment. Dáin had always been straightforward to the point of sometimes being too blunt and almost insulting, something that Thorin had learned to value over the many years that he had known him. Almost as an afterthought Dáin added: "And Dwalin will be fine too, you'll see."

Thorin wasn't as convinced, knowing well what only a few minutes in Azog's presence could do, but he still gave Dáin another half-hearted smile.

"I hope so." he agreed, just as Tauriel confirmed Dáin's words, adding her own encouragement.

Dáin just nodded back and held out his hand towards Thorin.

"Come on. Chief's waiting."

After a moment of hesitation Thorin took his hand, letting himself be pulled upright, the cool pack still gripped in his other hand. Tauriel sprang to her feet in a single fluid movement next to him and he almost envied her for her agility. Something told him that neither she nor Dáin were done talking to him, especially about what had happened to their comrades, but right now was neither the time nor the place to approach it, of that they were all aware. At least they had apparently somehow convinced the well-meaning medic to stay away for the moment.

Thranduil and the rest of the team only nodded at him when he joined them again in the van on the way back to the headquarters. As late as it was they had decided to hold the debriefing the next day, as usual. In many eyes there was the unspoken hope that they would have news of Dwalin the next day as well, and hopefully good ones. The rest of the work at the scene they left to the firefighters and their colleagues who had just arrived, securing the area and makings sure that no civilians would be endangered and the fires would be put out.

Everyone dispersed quickly once they arrived back at the headquarters, intent on getting back into their own beds and catching some sleep after the utterly long and both physically as well as emotionally taxing day that lay behind them. Thorin slowly took his gear off piece by piece, feeling the exhaustion thrum through his veins. Only when he had changed back into his normal clothes again he realized that he had nowhere to go back to. He had checked out from the hostel room and it was too far away to go back there anyway - and his and Dwalin's flat was still inorderly, the traces of the previous fight everywhere as were the memories of this night. No. He wouldn't find any sleep or comfort there.

Thorin thought about calling his sister for a moment, but then decided against it - tomorrow would be early enough to do so and he didn't want to wake her or her sons up in the middle of the night. He sighed and made his way to their little common room that held a small, old kitchen on the one side and a few comfortable chairs and sofas on the other one. Sometimes members of their unit slept over because of various reasons and one of the kitchen drawers held a few blankets to accommodate that fact. Thorin chose the first one he could grab and curled up on the sofa. To his surprise, sleep came quickly, the exhaustion just proving too much for him.

*

The next morning he woke up stiff all over, his knee aching and with a bad taste in his mouth. After a quick breakfast with the cereals and milk that were always in the kitchen he decided that he'd have enough time to go to the hospital before having to be back for the debrief for last night's mission. Thorin resolutely decided not to think about what would happen afterwards; his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the insecurity of what the future would hold almost making him dizzy. Furthermore, he still didn't want to think about what the others would say if they found out how vast his responsibility was for what had happened, that it was him who had gotten their team members killed.

He snuck out of the building as quietly as possible, trying not to be seen. Thorin didn't have the desire to talk to anyone this morning apart from Dwalin - and that conversation would be hard enough, he knew. He wondered whether he'd have to be the one to tell him about Balin's death or if someone else would be already be there and have done it for him. As much as he thought about it, he wasn't sure which way round he preferred.

The receptionist at the hospital listened to his request with a friendly smile, but frowned as she looked down at her computer.

"Could I please see your ID, sir? And your badge, if you have one?"

"Uhm." Thorin dug around in the pockets of his coat for his wallet and finally managed to take out his ID. He wanted to reach for his badge as well but then remembered that he didn't have one anymore.

"I'm sorry sir, but only members of the force and personal relations are allowed to see Mr. Barkhun at the moment."

Thorin faintly remembered Dwalin telling him something similar back when their roles had been reversed and he was the one injured in hospital after the incident at the _Pinecone_.

"I'm his partner." he said quietly. The receptionist's eyes widened slightly, but she still shook her head, regret in her eyes.

"I'm sorry." she repeated. "There's nothing I can do."

"Please." Thorin's voice was rough, but he didn't care. He wondered what the receptionist was thinking of him - unshaven as he was, wearing yesterday's clothes, his hair probably still in quite some disarray and despair in his eyes. There was a faint anger inside him, too, but he purposely held it in check, knowing he could not afford to make a scene. But he had to see Dwalin. He _had_ too.

"Durinsson.“ Thorin whipped around at the sound of the voice behind him. It was Thranduil, looking tired but impeccably attired as ever.

"Chief." he nodded in reply.

"You can put his name on the list, he can go through." Thranduil nodded at the receptionist, putting his own ID and badge on the desk. The woman frowned, but after a moment she tapped something into her computer and then gave Thorin the directions he needed to take.

Thorin thanked her, not asking her for any news on Dwalin's condition. He would soon see for himself.

"Thanks." he told Thranduil who just inclined his head quickly. Thorin guessed that he had been here to tell Dwalin about Balin's death. One part of him was relieved that _this_ particular burden had been taken off his shoulders, but the other one was angry with his boss, as always - it should have been _his_ choice, _his_ duty to tell his partner something so personal.

His feet seemed to drag the closer he got to Dwalin's room. The less distance remained, the less he knew what to say - 'I'm sorry'? It seemed shallow and cheap all of a sudden, certainly not the right words to say to the man he loved and whose brother had just died because of him.

Finally he took together all his courage and knocked on the door that he knew should be Dwalin's. There was no reply and so he softly called Dwalin's name, but there was only silence answering him.

"Dwalin?" he called out again, more loudly this time as he opened the door. "Are you-"

The words died on his tongue as he stepped inside and caught view of his partner. Dwalin hadn't even moved as he entered, sitting propped up on a few pillows and gaze directed solely at the opposite wall, his eyes wide and wet, although there were no tears on his face yet.

"Dwalin?" Thorin repeated a third time, his voice soft this time. "Hey."

"He's dead." Dwalin still wasn't looking at him. His voice was rough, no more than a whisper. Thorin swallowed.

"I know. I-"

"Get out." The words were so quiet and flat that at first Thorin thought he hadn't understood them correctly. Then he noticed that Dwalin's hands were clenched into fists next to him, his knuckles standing out white.

"Thorin, please. Get out." Dwalin repeated and it sounded like he was about to scream, forcing out every single word as if they would give him physical pain. A first tear ran down his cheek and Thorin knew he would break down any moment.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, knowing how empty those words must seem. He saw Dwalin's fists beginning to tremble and even though every single fibre of his being screamed at him to give his partner the comfort he needed, he turned around and left the room, just as a scream finally tore itself free from Dwalin's throat.

His own hands were shaking when he closed the door behind him and he leaned against the wall, trying not to listen to the sounds of Dwalin's grief coming from inside. He could feel tears forming inside his own ears and banged the back of his head against the wall in the vain hopes of hurting himself so much that it would take the pain inside him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually do that 'bang your head against a wall until it hurts'-thing a lot, especially when I'm angry with myself or feel a panic attack coming. I should probably stop doing that xD.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray, here we are! There's a looooooot of talking in this chapter and a lot of it was really overdue. Also more Dis, Fili and Kili!

Thorin didn’t return to the hospital for the rest of the day. He knew that Dwalin needed time to process what had happened and although he wanted nothing more than to give him the comfort he needed, Thorin also knew that it was better not to push him even though his heart broke when he was thinking of Dwalin alone in his hospital room. He wasn’t sure whether they’d ever be able to gain back everything they had lost but this decision belonged as much to Dwalin as it did to himself, maybe even more to his partner than him since Thorin was the one who had screwed up so monumentally.

Wandering around aimlessly for a while he decided to return to the police headquarters for the debriefing and then finally call his sister who he should have talked to much sooner. The debrief was rather short despite the importance of what had happened – many of the SWAT members were still tired and the wound torn by the absence of their colleagues was still fresh and bleeding. Thranduil told them that he had given Glóin and Dori the rest of the week off and everybody nodded in agreement. Thorin took it upon himself to tell everyone the full story, fill in the gaps of what they hadn’t known yet and that were directly linked to everything that he had done in the time that he had been suspended.

Silence reigned for a moment after he had finished and Thorin once again found himself unable to look his colleagues in the eyes. He suspected that a few of them, especially Dáin and Tauriel, had known most of it already, but he was still scared of their reaction. Most of his team mates didn't approach him afterwards, maybe sensing that they would all need some time to deal with what had happened. It was Dáin who came to him when he was lingering after the debriefing, waiting for everyone else to leave the room before he would call Dís. Dáin put a hand on his shoulder in silent support and gave him a small smile.

“It’s not all you fault.” he told Thorin quietly. “Azog is one hell of a fucking asshole and he would have come after us sooner or later. You were just the catalyst, is all.”

Thorin gave him a crooked smile in response, not completely convinced by Dáin’s words and knowing that by far not everybody would see it that way. Maybe not even Dwalin. He tried to banish the thought of what his partner was doing and feeling right now from his mind. However, he had little success in doing so and his mind was still half-absent when he finally took out his phone and dialled his sister’s number, knowing that she was about to have her lunch break.

“Thorin?” She answered the call almost immediately.

“Yeah. Hi. Uhm.” Now that he was finally talking to her he had no idea what to actually say.

“Are you and Dwalin alright?” Dís had always been good at hearing the unsaid, at least when it came to her brothers. Her and Frerin had always been much faster than Thorin at picking up on those clues - and she had likely heard about the explosion on the previous day in the news already. Thorin had found several unanswered calls by her on his phone last night.

“No.” Somehow it was surprisingly easy to admit now.

“What happened?” The worry in his sister’s voice was real and Thorin almost felt sorry for having to burden her with all those things so shortly after Frerin’s death. On the other hand – she _was_ his sister and would have never forgiven him if he’d kept quiet about it. And he had kept quiet for far too long already.

“I fucked up. And now Dwalin’s in hospital and Balin, Óin and Ori are dead and-“ The words seemed to come tumbling out of him.

“Thorin, Thorin, stop. Slow down. Breathe. Then start at the beginning. _What happened_?”

Thorin forced himself to calm down, taking a deep breath before he told his sister the whole story. She interrupted him with question from time to time when she didn’t understand, but remained quiet otherwise.

“I’m not even sure what to do now.” he said quietly. “I don’t want to go back to the flat, but I’m not really part of the team anymore either, am I? And I don’t even know whether Dwalin still wants me at the hospital…”

“Come to my place.” Dís said suddenly. “I’m getting off work in five hours, so I’ll be home in six. Will you be alright on your own until then?”

For a moment, Thorin’s throat was closing up and he didn’t know what to say.

“Are you sure?” he asked her. “I don’t feel like I should-“

“Shut up.” Dís’ voice had the same tone in it when they had been younger and Thorin had tried to explain to her why she couldn’t do this or that. She’d never listened to him. “You can crash on my couch for as long as you need. I’m sure Fíli and Kíli will be thrilled to see their uncle so often, too.”

“Thank you, Dís. But you really don’t have to-“

“Would you stop it already ?” Dís was sounding truly annoyed now. “I’m not your saviour, Thorin, nor am I a saint. You’ll have to get yourself out of this mess. But you’re my _brother_ , the only one I have left, and I love you.”

“I love you too.” Thorin said softy.

“I know.” There seemed to be a slight smile in Dís’ words. “Make sure you’re there this evening, or I’ll comb through the city until I’ve found you.”

“I’ll be there.” Thorin assured her. “I promise.”

“Good. I’ll see you later then. And don’t do anything stupid in the mean time.”

“I won’t. See you later.”

Thorin sat and stared at the ceiling for a while after the call had ended. His thoughts were going in circles in his mind – so much had happened within the last twenty-four hours that it was almost too much for him to process. He didn’t even know where he should begin to unravel the threads – the only thing he knew was that he had to do _something_. The same drive that had propelled him forward to find clues about Frerin’s murder and the hidden documents was now compelling him to do anything he could to help solve this situation. He knew he would go mad otherwise.

However, what could he do? If they used the documents now, Azog would not hesitate to go after his family or Dwalin again and he was more than unwilling to expose them to the risk now. There was only one life he wouldn’t mind risking, only one he placed so little regard on that he could use it without a bad conscience – his own.

He needed to talk to Thranduil.

*

Dís sighed as she unlocked the door to her apartment. It had been a long and not exactly easy workday – and most of it had been spent with various bureaucratic issues rather than her own stuff. Damn it, but she _hated_ paperwork.

“Hi Ma!” Fíli’s voice came from the living room and was echoed by Kíli’s just a moment later. She shouted a greeting back. For a moment she missed those times when her two boys would come running from wherever they had been to greet her with a hug and kisses, glad to have her back. Now Kíli was in that particular phase of puberty were everything that even vaguely resembled openly displayed affection from his mother was strictly forbidden and Fíli found himself ‘too mature’ to come to her. However, she couldn’t find it within herself to blame them. After all, Thorin, Frerin and herself hadn’t been any better at their ages. Especially Thorin who had set himself apart from his parents as early as possible.

She walked into the living room where he sons sat on the couch watching TV, accepted Kíli leaning away from her with a long-suffering expression when she tried to press a kiss to his cheek and tried not to laugh at Fíli’s face when she did the same to him and he tried to look as dignified as possible in response.

“Your uncle is coming to visit. Help me get the spare couch in your father's old workroom ready?” she asked them.

Kíli sighed as if she’d asked him to commit the greatest sacrifice of his life.

“Muuuuuum, can’t we finish the episode first?”

“This is Netflix, so you can pause.” Dís grinned wryly. The blessings of modern technology. Less than a decade ago his excuse would have actually been a valid one.

Kíli groaned again, exasperated and even more loudly when Fíli took up the remote to pause. Where Kíli was often wild and gave himself to all his moods, Dís was sometimes worried that her eldest was being a little _too_ nice. She often wondered whether Fíli’s lack of rebellion was due to him having had to grow up earlier than it had been good for him after her husband’s death, although her and his family had done her best to help and salvage and protect what was left of their family.

“Why is he coming around anyway?” Kíli asked, getting up from his seat on the sofa as slowly as possible. “Trouble with Dwalin?”

“No. You should ask him yourself.” Dís wasn’t quite sure how much of everything that Thorin had told her he wanted his nephews to know.

Kíli just rolled his eyes at her answer, but didn’t truly object any longer. Dís knew that both of her sons were rather fond of their uncle (they had been of both, really, although she had forbidden Frerin from taking them out by himself again given how their last trip ended with all three of them almost having to get bailed out of jail) and rather hoped that Thorin was up to their enthusiasm. He had sounded so tired on the phone, in more than just a physical way.

Dís hoped that he and Dwalin would be able to work out their differences somehow, even though it would be a long and stony path. Both of them had probably never realised just how much good they were doing each other – from what Dís had known of Dwalin before, he was a lot calmer now and actively trying to keep his temper in check more; Thorin, on the other hand, was less given to brooding and his mood swings and laughing a lot more often than she had seen before. It reminded her of herself sometimes, of the way that Víli had always managed to make her laugh even after the most horrible of days. She had tried to cling on to that laughter even after her partner’s death for the sake of her children, but wasn’t sure it was always working.

Thorin arrived shortly after they were finished with dinner. Dís had grown increasingly impatient over the past half hour, thinking that Thorin should have long been here already and had been scared that something might have happened to him. The first thing she did when she saw him was to envelop him in a tight hug, one that he returned almost immediately.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Thorin said quietly. “There was some stuff I had to see to before I came here.”

“It’s alright. I’m just glad you’re here now.” Dís replied with a small smile on her face.

“Uncle Thorin!” Kíli was the first to come forward and demand a hug from his uncle, a more reserved Fíli waiting until he had at least taken off his coat and shoes. Thorin hugged both of his nephews tightly, forcing a smile on his face when he was greeting them. Kíli didn’t wait long with the issue that seemed to be burning on his tongue.

“What’s happened, uncle? Ma said you’d be sleeping here tonight. Where’s Dwalin?”

Thorin and Dís exchanged a view, Dís signalling that she hadn’t told her sons anything yet. Thorin sighed and rubbed his forehead. There were dark rings under his eyes and he looked completely exhausted now that Dís got a good look at him. She’d bet that he hadn’t really eaten anything overly substantial recently either.

“Let him sit down first.” Dís chided her younger son and Thorin gave her a tiny grateful nod. He followed her into the kitchen to get out drinks for all of them and took a moment to get comfortable on the sofa before he seemed ready to tell his nephews about everything that was going on. He was clutching the glass in his hand like it was the only thing keeping him anchored. Not looking at his nephews, he finally began to talk.

"There was an attack on our team yesterday, you probably saw it on the news. Balin and two more are dead. And Dwalin...someone broke into our apartment last night when I wasn't there and he was wounded in the fight. He's in hospital right now and they say it'll be fine, but I couldn't really face going back home after all of it."

His words didn't contain any lies, but they weren't the full truth either, Dís noted. She didn't say anything - it was her brother's right to decide how much he wanted to tell them and how much he didn't. And she could well understand how he didn't want them to know about the trouble between him and Dwalin yet.

Fíli's and especially Kíli's faces were almost solemn after his words.

"You can stay here as long as you want, uncle." Fíli offered him quietly and Thorin gave him a small smile.

"Yeah!" Kíli agreed. "And maybe we can help you redecorate your apartment? That old sofa looked horrendous anyway and-"

"Kíli!" Dís chided her younger son, throwing an apologetic glance at her brother. Thorin only gave a quiet chuckle.

"Maybe. Let's ask Dwalin first though, shall we?"

"When can we visit him? Can we go now?" Kíli had seemingly forgotten the time that it was now and was looking rather excited. A wounded look came into Thorin's eyes at his word as he was evidently remembering what had happened this morning. Although he had told his sister, Dís still refused to mentally picture the scene.

"He only found out about Balin's death today and needs some time for himself." Thorin said softly. "Maybe you should call him tomorrow and ask when it's best for you to come."

Kíli nodded eagerly. Dís noticed well how he hadn't stated that he'd come with them to visit Dwalin, too. Fíli's gaze told her that he had picked up on the fact as well and heard a lot of what had remained unsaid before, but he seemed to be keeping his thoughts for himself for now. He had become even more introverted after Frerin's death, and it worried Dís, although she kept telling herself that it was just a normal reaction to his uncle's death.

The rest of the evening passed with Thorin pointedly changing the topic from the recent events and asking Dís and his nephews about everything that had happened in their lives since Frerin's death. It was good to see him take an honest interest again even though Dís suspected that some of his eager questions were more in order to distract himself from everything else and Dwalin. Their conversation only moved back to the topic once her boys had gone to bed, even though Kíli was complaining that he had to go so early.

"So...are you thinking of seeing Dwalin tomorrow?" Dís asked her brother gently. She hated bringing the issue back up, but it had to be done. Thorin stiffened noticeably, his fingers playing with the fabric of the sofa when he replied.

"I'm not sure." he said honestly.

"You should." Thorin looked slightly stricken at her reply, but Dís tried not to regret her relentlessness. "You should at least try, Thorin. He still needs you. And you need him."

Her brother didn't reply, just looked down at his own two hands.

"You'll have to do the first step." Dís reminded him softly. "Dwalin deserves that much from you."

"I know." he replied quietly. "It's just that I'm...I'm scared, Dís. Terrified, like I've never been before. Of losing _him_ , losing you, the boys..."

His voice faltered and Dís knew instinctively that he had never truly said it out loud before. She knew the same fear and sometimes she still woke up in the morning so afraid that one day someone else she loved would die that her stomach tied itself into knots and all she wanted was to curl up into a small ball and beg time to just stop and let her keep what was left.

"Then tell him that. Thorin, this is _Dwalin_ we are talking about. Despite everything, he knows you better than anyone else save perhaps myself. And you _have_ to be honest with him."

Thorin just nodded, leaning back with a sigh. Dís placed her hand on his and gave his fingers a quick squeeze that he answered with a small, tired smile.

"Dís." he eventually said. "There's something else I need to tell you..."

*

The next morning Thorin was at the hospital as early as the day before. Despite everything, his sheer exhaustion and the fact that he was at his sister's place had enabled him to get at least a little bit of sleep, although his head still felt slightly muddled and his stomach was aching. When had it come so far that he was actually _scared_ of facing Dwalin?

At least this time he was allowed to enter without any difficulty, although it took him more than a few minutes to collect himself enough to be able to knock on Dwalin's door.

"Dwalin?" he called out. "It's me, Thorin. Can I come in?"

He figured it would be better to let him know in advance rather than forcing his presence on him. This way Dwalin could decide whether he wanted to see him or not. There was silence on the other side of the door at first and Thorin almost thought that Dwalin would turn him away, but then his partner's voice rang out, still slightly hoarse.

"Come in."

Thorin took a deep breath and stepped into the room. At least physically, Dwalin looked slightly better than he had the day before, his skin no longer as pale. The look in his eyes, however, cut Thorin more deeply than a knife. There was something in them, like a raw and bleeding wound spilling hurt and anger everywhere. Dwalin didn't object when Thorin pulled a chair close to his bed and sat down on it, avoiding any physical contact for now.

"How are your wounds?" Thorin asked him quietly. There was no need to ask how he was feeling. The question would have been hypocritical and the answer was obvious.

Dwalin shrugged, the gesture causing him to grimace slightly with pain although he abandoned the expression quickly enough as it tugged at the sewn-up wound across his face.

"Fine. I should be out of here in a few days."

Thorin nodded and for a few minutes nothing but silence reigned. When had it become so difficult for them to talk to each other? He took a deep breath, deciding that he could as well cut right to the chase. Both of them had never been a fan of talking much around an issue anyway.

"So...does that mean it's over?" His voice sounded brittle, even in his own ears. He avoided looking at Dwalin, gazing at his own fingers instead. "Between us, I mean."

Dwalin was quiet for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to say.

"I don't know." he replied eventually and Thorin could feel something inside him clench painfully, whether it was with hope or sadness, he didn't know.

"Do you want it to be?" Dwalin asked and for the first time, Thorin looked up, trying to meet his gaze.

"No." he whispered. He was almost afraid to ask the next question. "Do you?"

Again, Dwalin took a while to mull over his answer. His own fingers were tugging at the blanket over his chest.

"No." he finally answered, his voice gone quiet and soft. "I don't think so."

Thorin exhaled, some of the tensions suddenly leaving him. This wasn't making it any easier, not really, but it was a beginning at least.

"So...what are we going to do?" He was almost afraid to ask the question, despite Dwalin's previous answers.

"I don't know." Dwalin said again. "But things will have to change. _We_ will have to. Both of us."

Thorin nodded, agreeing with him.

"I'm sorry." The words were past his lips before he could take them back. "For ignoring you. For not trusting you enough. For not listening to you. For getting carried away. For...for everything."

"And I'm sorry for not trusting you enough, too." Dwalin was looking at him now, too, the gaze from his grey eyes locking with Thorin's. Thorin could read the sincerity if Dwalin's words in them. Not forgiveness, no, not yet, maybe not ever. But the quiet resolution to accept each other's mistakes and taking what had happened and learn from it. "For not understanding better. And for opening the door to that bitch and her cronies."

He added the latter with a tiny smile, one that Thorin was only too glad to return. Hesitatingly, he reached out with one hand, waiting to see if Dwalin would pull away. He didn't. Their fingers touched and Thorin drew his thumb over the skin of Dwalin's hand.

"I'm glad you're still alive." He took a deep breath, hearing his sister's voice in his head again. _Tell him_. "I don't think I could...it would be hard for me to face a world without you in it."

There it was. Words he normally would have never said, but yet here they were. If Frerin were here he would have punched him in the ribs and called him a sappy old man. But he wasn't and that was why he was saying them now. He had never had the chance to tell his brother the same, after all.

Dwalin's reply took a while, but his gesture was unmistakeable - his fingers slowly intertwined themselves with Thorin's, squeezing slightly.

"Same." His voice almost cracked at the one word. Thorin wondered if he had the same regrets with Balin that he had with Frerin.

The thought of his brother brought him to a different issue, one he knew he had to address. He had promised himself to try and be more open and honest with his partner. Best start now. Thorin cleared his throat.

"Dwalin? I need to tell you something. Yesterday, I've made a decision..."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go! Lots of talking in this chapter - and finally more Bilbo. I enjoy writing him a lot in this universe to be honest.

Bilbo Baggins hadn’t eaten anything in almost a day. To everyone who knew him this would have come as quite a surprise –food was one of the few things he was truly fond of, and good food the only luxury he would ever allow himself. His parents had always thought that he would one day become a cook or even restaurant chief and indeed, that was the apprenticeship he had started initially before his life had taken a more…interesting and certainly different turn. Now, however, he felt like he had no stomach to keep down anything, especially when he looked at the satisfaction in Smaug’s face.

Bilbo had already been home when it happened, nervously looking at his phone every few seconds to see whether Gandalf had called and managed to get his warning through in time. It was, however, not Gandalf who had told him – it had been the news. Twitter picked up on it first, of course, and Bilbo switched on the TV, simultaneously following all news outlets online to get the full coverage. After about ten minutes, when his fears had proven to come true, he had felt sick to the stomach and switched everything off again.

He had no idea how long he had been lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling afterwards. Gandalf had probably tried to call him several times, but he truly didn’t care anymore. It had been a while since he had felt this empty – Frerin’s death had filled him with sadness, too, but at the same time it had enraged him and given him the strength to go on with his task to finally bring down Azog. Now, however…he should have been able to prevent the death of three more innocent people. It had been his duty, the goal of his work and yet he had been unable to do anything. The sentiment was only amplified when he was informed via internal text message about what had happened to Dwalin Barkhun. It was a feeling of absolute helplessness and that his work was completely futile. What good was it if he couldn’t even save a single person?

That night he barely slept, still leaving his phones switched off. When he finally turned them back on the next morning he found, just as expected, numerous messages on his private one that only he and Gandalf knew about. Evidently the old man had tried to call him several times throughout the evening and night of the previous day, but somehow Bilbo found that he couldn’t care less. He read the texts that informed him that the operation the previous night to free Dwalin had only been partially successful – he had expected nothing less, but was glad that there were at least no more dead to mourn.

Unfortunately, giving in to the emptiness would have meant discovery by Smaug. Although Bilbo was willing to finally blow his cover and end this ill-fated operation, he still wanted to do so in a useful manner, rather than in one that would get himself killed with little use for anyone else. So he bit his tongue, banned all thoughts to the back of his mind, and suffered through another day at Smaug’s side, wishing he could punch his smug visage whenever Moria and the happenings of the previous night were mentioned. He almost thought he had reached the end of his patience when Azog himself entered Smaug’s study to report on everything in person.

"Well done." It was very hard for Smaug to give out praise and a quick, satisfied smile travelled over Azog's face in response, vanishing quickly when Smaug continued. "Although I hear that Durinsson and most of his team are still alive."

"Unfortunately, yes." Azog knew better than to start making excuses. If there was anything that Smaug hated, it was people not taking responsibility for what had gone wrong. "However, we do have the documents. And Durinsson knows that, if they should ever get used, the fallout from it won't be pretty for him."

Smaug nodded and Azog took out a metal box from his bag and handed it to him.

"All the documents he had." he told Smaug. Bilbo watched from the side how Smaug slowly leafed through the multiple sheets of paper in his hands. He was impressed; from what he could see, the information Thorin's relatives had compiled was more than thorough, especially when it came to Azog. No wonder he had been so keen on obtaining them. In the right hands, these could pose a real danger to Smaug's shadow empire. A shame that Azog had caught wind of it and reacted so quickly.

Bilbo had to hold himself together to not let any feelings show on his face throughout the rest of the conversation. When Azog finally left and he was allowed to go as well a few hours later, he felt as if his entire body was deflating when the tension left him all of a sudden. He had to lean against a wall and took a few quick breaths to compose himself again before he left the mansion, his work for the day done. As soon as he was a safe distance away, he took out his other phone and noticed yet another handful of calls from Gandalf that he had missed. With a sigh he decided that he couldn't ignore the old man any longer; it was probably better to speak to him now than letting the issue built up.

He took a deep breath and dialled Gandalf's number.

"Gandalf." he greeted him. No need to say who he was. Gandalf probably knew this number as well as the back of his hand anyway. "What is it?"

"Where have you been?" Was that a trace of worry in Gandalf's voice? Bilbo was impressed.

"I needed some time to think last night. And now I've just come back from work." he told him.

"A lot of things happened that you should know about." Now that it was clear that Bilbo hadn't been in any kind of danger, Gandalf had reverted to his usual assertive self. "Meet me at the usual place in an hour."

Bilbo sighed. He knew it was useless to disagree. Gandalf often had a certain way about him that signalled he wouldn't accept 'no' as an answer. Therefore, he hurried up to get to the gay bar as soon as possible. The first time he had met Gandalf there he had thought the meeting place a bad joke - only over time did he realise just how genius it was. It was a naturally discrete place and most of those they were hunting would never look for them there. Furthermore, he was fairly sure that Gandalf rather enjoyed the Company of so many good looking men around him. Bilbo didn't care much either way - for neither romance nor sex had ever been of great importance to him.

Gandalf was already waiting for him when he entered the bar, at their usual table in one of the corners. Although it wasn't that late yet, there were quite a few people already there - and quite a few of them familiar faces at that. Bilbo waved at Old Toby, the bartender who had been here ever since he could remember. Toby nodded back and continued talking to the customer in front of him.

Bilbo sat down next to Gandalf with a sigh. In the time it had taken him to hurry he'd barely had time to think and now that he saw the old man face to face, the words in his head seemed to have become convoluted and stuck together.

"I'm not sure how much longer I can do this." he finally said. Honesty was always the best way to go with Gandalf after all.

Gandalf simply cocked an eyebrow at his words, seemingly surprised.

"I didn't think you would give up so easily." he replied dryly.

"I'm not giving _up_ , Gandalf, I just have a bloody _conscience_!' Bilbo hissed back, trying to keep his voice down. Gandalf's attitude began to anger him. The old man sighed.

"I can see why you might be upset right now, Bilbo, but really, we are so close and-"

"Damn right I'm upset." Bilbo slammed his glass back on the table a little harder than strictly necessary, but still keeping his voice down. "They're _dead_ , Gandalf and once again I couldn't do a thing. Tell me how we are anywhere _close_ to achieving our goal at the moment?"

"This is exactly why I called you here." Gandalf told him, a note of smug satisfaction in his voice. Bilbo rolled his eyes at the tone. "Thorin Durinsson arranged to speak to me earlier."

"Durinsson?" Bilbo had to admit that he was interested. At the same time the sensation of something going wrong was pooling in his stomach. He hated the feeling. His stomach was usually right.

"Yes. He seemed a little...shaken and offered me any assistance he could give with catching Azog and Smaug."

"What kind of assistance?" Bilbo knew exactly that Gandalf was stalling and drawing out the moment to reveal what apparently caused him great satisfaction.

"He agreed to act as a bait for Azog and, in a way, Smaug, under the condition that we keep his family and partner safe."

It took Bilbo the better part of a minute to understand what Gandalf had just said. He hoped in vain that maybe he hadn't listened correctly, that Gandalf had said something different. Then he hid his face in his hands and groaned quietly.

"Please tell me you didn't pick him up on it." He knew his hopes were for naught even before he uttered the words. Gandalf looked at him as if he had just gone insane.

"Of course I did." he said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

"You can't be serious." Bilbo shook his head in disbelief. "Gandalf, the man has gone through quite some physical and emotional trauma and he's probably anything but mentally stable right now. And you're using that to achieve your own goals."

Gandalf frowned.

"I am. Because these goals are important. I don't have to tell _you_ that, Bilbo. You have _seen_ what those people can do, haven't you?"

"That's exactly why I'm against it! He'll get himself killed. Hell, he'll get us all killed!" Bilbo knew it was a lost cause but he wouldn't go down and give in to Gandalf without a fight. Not this time. The shrewd man had probably known that the deaths of the SWAT members would drive Bilbo close to giving up on the operation. Now that Thorin was in...Gandalf knew as well as he did that Bilbo wouldn't let Durinsson fight on his own, no matter how unfortunate their last encounter might have been.

"Thorin said he would talk about it with his sister and partner and only go ahead if they agreed as well. But from what I've seen, he's determined to go through with it."

"That's because he's haunted by everything that's happened. This is just...it's like the worst possible form of therapy imaginable." Bilbo knew that Gandalf wasn't heartless, quite the contrary in fact. He was so concerned with the greater good that sometimes, the smaller details didn't matter as much to him as they did to anybody else. He guessed that the world probably needed people like him - which still didn't make it right, in his opinion.

"And I'm sorry it has come to this." Gandalf acknowledged. "But we need him and what he has to offer. Together with your careful work, this might be our one chance to finally put an end to all this."

That was the moment Bilbo knew that he couldn't simply drop the work he had been doing. With his words, Gandalf had basically placed the responsibility for the outcome of this operation on his shoulders. He groaned. He hated it when Gandalf somehow managed to rope him in again and again.

"Fine. But for the record, I'm still against this. And you will do everything you can to keep Durinsson and his family and partner safe."

Gandalf simply inclined his head in response and Bilbo chose to take it as a good sign. He just hoped that Gandalf's protection would be enough to guard them against the storm that was coming.

*

"You did _what_?"

Dwalin was staring at Thorin with his mouth wide open as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. The brief moment of beginning intimacy between them had ended again as it started to emerge just what Thorin had told Gandalf and Thranduil the previous day. Now he was unconsciously balling up his blanket with one fist, the broken fingers of his other hand resting on his leg. Thorin tried to shake off the guilt washing through him at their sight, but to no avail. Every single one of Dwalin's injuries reminded him of what he had done wrong and he idly wondered whether he'd ever be able to trail his fingers over the scar on Dwalin's face once it was healed and not feel a sharp pinch of self-recrimination in his heart.

"I agreed to act as bait to draw out Azog." Thorin repeated quietly, not daring to meet Dwalin's eyes. He had known that his partner wouldn't like it and had been ready for his anger. Nonetheless, being ready for it and not having it hurt him were two completely different things.

Dwalin sighed and made a movement to pinch the bridge of his nose. He aborted it halfway through when he seemingly remembered the deep cut across his face. Thorin could see a variety of emotions in his expression from the corner of his eyes - pain, both physical and emotional, fear and anger amongst them.

"I can't believe you did that." Dwalin shook his head. Thorin still didn't dare look at him. "You _know_ what's going to happen. Hell, did you even think to talk about it with anyone else before? For example your sister?"

Thorin winced. Dwalin's words reminded him of the previous evening - he had expected Dís to be angry, to shout at him, maybe even throw him out of her house. Instead she had just gone very, very quiet as he had rarely seen her, the blue in her eyes dimmed by sadness. It had hurt more than any loud words could ever have.

"I talked to her about it last night. I also told Gandalf that I wouldn't go ahead with it before I'd spoken with you and Dís."

"At least something." Dwalin grumbled. He still seemed agitated and Thorin knew that the explosion would come eventually. "What did she say?"

"Not much." Thorin admitted. "She told me not to do anything stupid again and that...that she didn't want me to end up like Frerin. And she reminded me to think of Fíli and Kíli."

"She's right." Dwalin's tone made Thorin finally look up and meet his eyes. A bitter smile crossed his partner's face. "I don't- I don't have any family left anymore, but you do."

"I know." Thorin looked down at his hands again. "But I can't help it, I need to do _something_ , I need to be _useful_ -"

Dwalin interrupted him before Thorin could finish the sentence. His voice was slowly growing louder and louder.

"You're doing it again. Not trusting me. Leaving me behind. Can't you _see_?"

"It wasn't like that. I just...dammit Dwalin, this might be our chance to finally get rid of this fucking asshole forever!" Thorin hadn't meant to, but now he was yelling as well.

"No, it means you might be the one I lose next!" Dwalin shouted back, slamming his palm flat on the mattress and wincing at the pain the sudden movement sent through him. For a moment Thorin just stared at him.

Someone knocked on the door and both their heads whipped around.

"Excuse me." The nurse who entered looked rather annoyed. "But could you please keep it down? Or I might have to ask your partner to leave."

"Yes, sorry." Dwalin replied after a moment whilst Thorin muttered the same. Silence stretched out after the nurse had left until Dwalin cocked his head.

"He was hot." he remarked dryly. It took Thorin a moment to pick up on what Dwalin had just said and that it related to the nurse since the tone of his voice had been completely flat.

"You're impossible." Thorin threw him a glare, but he couldn't hide the spark of amusement in his eyes. This, at least, was a Dwalin he knew how to deal with. "And stop diverting from the topic at hand."

"Ah yes, I forgot. You were about to tell me just how exactly you plan on getting yourself killed." The sarcasm in Dwalin's voice stung although Thorin knew that he had earned it. Neither of them made any reference to Dwalin's last sentence before the nurse had come in, but Thorin had heard it and kept it deep inside his heart. He still didn't understand why anyone would care so much about him, so much more than he himself did.

"We don't have anything concrete yet." he admitted.

"And who's 'we'?" Dwalin asked him.

"Gandalf, mostly. And Thranduil, I guess. I'm not sure."

Dwalin made a slightly disgusted face at the mention of their boss' name, but kept quiet. Thorin took a deep breath and tried to take a small step outside his own headspace, remembering their words from earlier and trying to imagine what he would feel like if their places were reversed. He thought of Balin's smile and gentle, yet hard voice and somewhere in his head he could hear Frerin's laughter mixing with it. Those holes in their souls would never be filled.

"I'm sorry." The words sounded used up somehow, spoken one time too many. And yet he meant them, now more so than ever and he hoped Dwalin would hear that.

"I know." Dwalin lifted his hand, scratching his head and stopping as soon as his fingers touched the bandages around his ear. He cursed quietly, probably at the itching of his wounds, and looked at Thorin again.

"Alright. I know I can't really keep you from doing it, whatever I say." He lifted a hand when Thorin wanted to reply. "BUT, that doesn't mean I'll just let you go ahead with this stupidity either."

Thorin said nothing, but just looked at him questioningly. Dwalin took a deep breath, wincing as his ribs protested.

"As long as Dís agrees...I want in. On everything. For Balin. And all the others."

It took Thorin a moment to comprehend what he had just heard.

"You sure?" he asked hesitantly. He knew that Dwalin certainly wasn't overly emotionally stable at the moment and he didn't want to take advantage of him.

Dwalin's gaze was cold, pure steel when he looked into his eyes.

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the tone changed rapidly throughout that last conversation. The chapter has been finished for quite a while, but I kept mulling it over and changed especially the last bits again and again - I think the problem is that both of them are in sort of an extraordinary place right now emotionally, especially Dwalin, and their moods can change within seconds as opposed to usually. And once again Thorin has absolutely no clue why anyone would care about him so much. And Dwalin is one of those people who makes bad jokes when the situation gets uncomfortable (like me :P).
> 
> In other news - not sure if I can get the next chapter done within a month since I'll be on holiday for two weeks starting in three weeks! I'll do my best, but the next one might be slightly delayed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray, I managed one more! But the next one will probably truly take a little longer. Five more days of work and then a well-earned holiday, yay! In the meanwhile, enjoy this :3.

Dís kept watching her brother quietly as he was cooking in the kitchen. Thorin's movements were measured and precise since he knew exactly what he was doing and he seemed deeply engrossed in it. Dís didn't mind cooking, but it had never been her most favourite task and that Thorin had declared himself willing to do it today had helped her in more ways than one, having come home from work so late. Thorin seemed to be possessed by a strange energy as he was cooking, adding things here and there, his face a mask of pure concentration. He almost looked happy, lost in his task as he was.

Dís thought back to their conversation a few days ago when Thorin had revealed to her that he intended to use himself as a bait to draw out Azog. She remembered how her first reaction hadn't been the burning anger she had thought she would feel. It had been a strange coldness instead, as if someone had drenched her heart in ice. _Not again_. Those had been the words in her head, going round and round with no sign that they would ever stop. Only later had she realised that her brother's actions might not only bring himself into danger but also her and her children as well. Nobody was truly safe from the likes of Azog.

She could even understand where her brother was coming from and how much he was driven to finally bring an end to this affair that had been bothering them all for far too long and had claimed too many innocent lives. The desire seemed to leave place for little else in his mind, although it was apparent how much Dwalin's injury and the other squad members' deaths' had shaken him. At the same time, Dís felt that it wasn't selfish of her to want to preserve what family she still had left. It seemed hard to find the right path in this dilemma and whichever choice they ended up making inevitably seemed to be the wrong one.

Thorin had visited Dwalin again the day after he had told her and returned home with a strange glint in his eyes. She was glad to hear that their relationship seemingly hadn't come to an end over everything that had happened although it had been close to doing so. Thorin had been both relieved and burdened by what had happened and Dís had understood when he had told her about Dwalin's decision. In her opinion it would have been better for both of them if they had waited for a while before taking up the fight against Azog again, had let time take off the worst edges of the pain and begin to heal some of their wounds.

"So Dwalin's getting out tomorrow?" she asked her brother as he was stirring the pot of what she assumed was going to turn into their dinner soon. Fíli and Kíli were in their rooms and she was enjoying having her brother for herself for a few moments.

"Yeah." Thorin nodded, not taking his eyes off his cooking. "He has to stay home and away from work for another week though and isn't allowed to go back into active duty until all his wounds have completely healed."

"I assume he's just like you and will try to do all of that at once." Dís smiled.

"Probably." Thorin looked up for a moment, giving her a quick smile back. "And it's truly alright if he comes here, too, for a few days?"

Dís sighed and rubbed her eyes. The long days at work and all the worries and grief of the recent weeks were definitely getting to her.

"Of course. We'll manage somehow. I can understand why neither of you wants to return to your apartment for now. Although you'll have to at some point..." her voice trailed off.

"I know." Thorin said quietly. "We won't be troubling you for long, I promise. Just a few nights before we have found a more permanent solution..."

"It's not a problem." Dís reassured him. "Somehow I wish I could do more for the two of you though."

"Are you kidding?" Thorin turned around again although he kept stirring the contents of the pot with one of his hands. "You're already doing more than enough, sister. I don't even know what I would do or where I'd be without you."

Dís smiled back at him, not quite knowing what to say. She _did_ feel useless at times, so it was good to hear that her mind was just playing games on her. Just as she was about to get up and call out to her sons that dinner was going to be ready soon, their phone rang. Dís frowned when she saw that the caller was unknown. Maybe someone from her sons' school?

"Yes, Dís Durinsson?"

"Dís? Hi, this is Nori."

Dís frowned and dug through her mind for where she might be remembering the name from. It sounded vaguely familiar. Then she recalled it - an old acquaintance of Thorin's and the same one who had helped him snoop around in the police's affairs in the first place. She had met him a few times although most it must have been quite a while ago that she had seen him last. He had also been Ori's brother.

"Hey." Dís wasn't quite sure what else to say. She knew what had happened to Ori and how he must feel at the moment. There was no reason to bring up the issue now and hurt them both more than they had to.

"Uhm, sorry for calling you so suddenly." Nori sounded strangely hesitant and tired. Dís wondered belatedly whether he was blaming Thorin for his little brother's death. She wouldn't even be able to fault him if he did. "But I heard that Dwalin is getting out of hospital tomorrow and I was wondering whether he'd need a place to stay seeing that his own apartment is currently a bit of a mess."

"Me and Thorin were just wondering about that, yeah." Dís admitted. She could hear Nori take a deep breath on the other side of the line.

"I'll be staying with Dori for a while at the moment." he told her and Dís could feel a sting of pain in her heart. She didn't know what it was like to have younger siblings, but she knew how much especially Dori had been doting over Ori. It said a lot about Nori that he was willing to stay with Dori with whom he was almost constantly fighting according to Thorin.

"So my apartment is pretty much free right now." Nori continued. Dís had an inkling of where he was going with his story, but she kept quiet. "If Dwalin wants to, he can move in there for now. Thorin, too, if he wants to accompany him."

"I'm sure they'll appreciate that." Dís told him. "Thank you so much, Nori."

"No problem. Tell Dwalin to send me a text so I can give them the keys." Nori appeared like he was deliberating trying to sound almost business-like in order to not to show too much emotion.

"I will. Thorin is here right now, actually, would you like to talk to him?"

"No, it's fine." The answer came almost too fast. "I don't- just have Dwalin text me, then we'll sort out everything else."

"Alright. Thanks, Nori." Dís tried very carefully to sound as neutral as possible.

"Thanks." The line disconnected. Dís looked at the phone in her hand for a while before she sighed and put it back into its holder.

"Who was it?" Thorin called over from the kitchen. The hood above the hearth was too loud for him to have heard anything. Dís walked over to her brother, deciding quickly not to tell him that Nori hadn't wanted to talk to him.

"It was Nori. He said he was staying with Dori for now and that you and Dwalin could use his apartment for a while if you wanted to."

"Oh." Thorin clearly hadn't expected that. "Yeah, of course. I guess that solves our problem of where to go at least temporarily.."

"Hm." Dís nodded. "Nori told me that Dwalin should just text him as soon as he's getting out tomorrow. Then you can see where to meet for the keys and all that."

Thorin seemed pleased with what Dís had just told him. He didn't ask why Nori had wanted Dwalin to text him or why he didn't want to talk to Thorin, probably knowing full well why Ori's brother wouldn't want to have a conversation with him right now. Dís didn't know how their meeting would go but she hoped Nori would be able to keep his cool; as much as he had every right in the world to be angry with Thorin a direct confrontation would probably help neither of them. She watched as Thorin finished cooking their meal with a few motions and remembered belatedly that she hadn't called her sons to dinner yet. She loved the two of them with her whole heart, but she had to admit that she was still happy to catch a break from them from time to time.

With a sigh she stood up as Thorin started to set the table and bring out the food. At least with her sons the dinner was sure to be a lively one, as always.

*

Thorin hadn't expected Nori's offer at all. He was surprised that Nori had even thought about Dwalin and him, knowing well how much Ori's death must have shifted Nori's world and his view of it. Something told Thorin that it wasn't him that Nori was doing this for.

He and Dwalin had talked little since he had gotten Dwalin from the hospital. Thorin had borrowed Dís' car since the healing stab wound in Dwalin's leg still made it hard for him to walk around, especially on long distances. However, the silence between them wasn't exactly uncomfortable - they had talked about the most important things and knew that only time would truly be able to do the rest of the work. Dwalin had asked him about Dís and her children and Thorin had told him of Nori's offer, which his partner accepted with a quiet nod, getting out his phone to text his old friend immediately. They had agreed to meet early the next day to get the keys to Nori's apartment and Thorin told Dwalin that he would go back to their old home and get most of their things that they would need as long as Dwalin would make him a list. He had noticed that Dwalin wasn't keen on returning there any time soon and he couldn't deny the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his own stomach every time he thought back to the destruction that had been brought to the place he had once associated with such happy memories.

The evening was both strange and comforting. Dís had enveloped Dwalin in a wordless hug as soon as she had returned home and found him on her sofa, squeezing tightly but mindful of his wounds. Dwalin had returned it after a moment and Thorin could almost see how something inside him slowly came loose.

"Thanks for letting us stay here for tonight." Dwalin's voice was suspiciously rough when he stepped away from her again.

"Any time." Dís had smiled back, her eyes glinting with wetness. "You know you are always welcome here."

"Yeah!" Fíli had added from behind, his brother shouting an agreement. Thorin had watched the two brothers hug Dwalin and with a sting in his heart he thought of Frerin. He wondered whether seeing the two siblings together reminded Dwalin of Balin as much as it did him of his own brother. For some reason he almost felt as if he were excluded from something when the four of them stood so closely together. He wondered if he and Dwalin would ever go back to normal again. Dwalin looked over to Thorin and gave him a small smile, limping over to him after a moment.

"What's for dinner?" he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

"We were going to order pizza." Thorin grinned. The rest of his words was almost drowned out by Fíli's and Kíli's excited shouting. "I thought you might like some real food after the stuff they gave you at the hospital."

Dwalin laughed. It didn't sound quite right yet, a little off and much too rough, but it _was_ a laugh, the first real one Thorin had heard from him in weeks. Dís looked over at them and smiled, still trying to calm down her shouting sons who were already involved in a fight over what kind of toppings they should be ordering.

"Pizza sounds good." Dwalin agreed finally. He didn't have to tell Thorin how horrible hospital food was. Dís and him had been smuggling Mars Bars into the hospital for weeks when Thorin had been cooped up in there after all. Thorin grinned back at him and pulled out a chair at the table for Dwalin to sit down so he could take the weight off his leg.

They finally solved the issue of what pizza to order by deciding that they would get three different large ones that they could also use for lunch the next day. Dís looked slightly uncomfortable at the idea of having nothing but cold pizza for lunch, but she had long since stopped listening to the inner voice inside her that she always had to be a perfect mother at all times. Her boys would grow up just fine contrary to public opinion, even if she didn't cook them healthy organic grand meals every day.

If Thorin tried he could almost imagine that everything was back to normal this evening and the events of the past months were nothing more than a bad dream. Fíli and Kíli kept trying to make Dwalin laugh and their attempts eventually bore fruit even though his laughter was never as loud or boisterous as it had been before. Dís and Thorin were grinning too and when Thorin half closed his eyes he could see Frerin hooting with laughter at the other end of the table and Balin's quiet chuckling in the background like it had been during their last Christmas celebration together. They didn't talk about those they had lost although their presence was always tangible in everybody's head.

It was Dís who asked them about the funeral, a while after she had sent her sons to bed despite their begging that they wanted to stay up for longer. Thorin was yawning already, not having slept well the last night. His own leg was propped up too, next to Dwalin's since it had begun to hurt again after the rather long car drive that day. He and Dwalin formed almost perfect mirror images in a way that Thorin had never really wanted them to.

"So..." Dís' glance was almost apologetic when she began speaking. "Is there any word on the funeral arrangements yet?"

Dwalin stiffened next to Thorin, a spark of pain flaring up in his eyes. Thorin wished he could have given him comfort somehow, with a reassuring touch maybe or some quick words. However, he knew that, right now, Dwalin wouldn't have accepted such a gesture even though he might have needed it.

"There was a service at the headquarters a few days back." he said quietly as it became obvious that Dwalin wouldn't answer. "We wanted to wait with the actual funeral services themselves until Dwalin was out of hospital. Balin...Balin was cremated, but they are waiting for Dwalin to decide what he wants to do with the ashes."

"Thranduil asked me a few days ago." Dwalin's voice was rough and sounded strangely dead. "I told him I wanted something small and private for Balin after the big official service at the station."

Thorin nodded. After a long conversation with his sister she had persuaded him to go to the official service, even though he had felt strange doing so. He had slipped in at the very back right before the beginning of the service so as not to attract any attention from the other team members. He still didn't know how he should react in front of Dori, Nori and Glóin. The explosion and the officers' deaths had attracted a storm of media attention and Thorin was glad that most of them had been excluded for the actual service. This was something that was important to the SWAT team and the victim's closest family and friends and nothing that outsiders should have access to.

He had barely been able to listen to the speeches that were given, especially when those closest to the deceased were talking. In Dwalin's absence both Dori and Glóin took upon themselves to speak about Balin and Thorin was grateful to them for it. Thranduil had asked him beforehand if he wanted to be the one giving Balin's speech but he had denied. It wouldn't have felt right.

Thorin had disappeared again as soon as the service had ended. He had successfully evaded both Gandalf and Dáin who had obviously wanted to talk to him and left the building as quickly as possible, ignoring a few reporters who had wanted to get a statement from him.

"Do you..." Thorin swallowed. He had wanted to ask Dwalin for a while about Balin's funeral, but somehow hadn't found the courage yet. "Do you mind me coming, too?"

Dwalin looked at him for a moment, then shook his head.

"No. I want you to be there." he finally replied, much to Thorin's relief.

"We can help you with the organisation, if you want." Dís offered. "I...I organised most of Frerin's service with Bombadil's Funeral Home and they were fairly friendly and professional."

Dwalin still winced slightly at the word 'funeral', but he nodded and even managed the hint of a smile.

"Thanks. That would be helpful, yeah."

"No problem." Dís smiled back. "We can talk about the details at a later point, if you want to."

They went to bed soon after, Dís into her own room that still housed the wide double bed she used to share with her husband. Even almost a decade after his death she was still keeping it. Thorin looked at Dwalin and then at the bed he had been sleeping in for the past days, made up in Víli's old workroom. It was theoretically wide enough to fit two, but he wasn't sure whether Dwalin wanted him to sleep in the same bed or not.

He came into the room when Dwalin had already changed, lying in bed with his glasses on to read a few lines before he would go to sleep.

"What are you doing?" Dwalin asked him as he was standing in the doorway, probably looking slightly sheepish.

"I'm not sure where to sleep." Thorin said quietly, not looking at him. "There's a couch in the living room if you-"

"Well, what do _you_ want?" Dwalin interrupted him. In light of the recent events Thorin had taken to putting his own wishes completely at the back compared to his partner's.

"Here." There wasn't even any sign of hesitation in Thorin's voice. Dwalin looked at him and gave him a crooked smile.

"Then come on. I'm sure the bed is large enough for the two of us."

Thorin smiled back.

"Yeah."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dearies, I hope you're all having a fabulous summer! Here's the next chapter for your enjoyment ;).

They met with Nori the following day at the address he had given them. Dwalin and Thorin were there slightly too early - they had expected much busier traffic, but for some reason the roads hadn't been as full as they'd thought they would be. Nori lived in a relatively quiet part of the city although the houses looked slightly run down and it didn't seem to be the friendliest of environments. Dwalin shrugged; it would do just fine for them, he knew. Their own flat wasn't exactly in the most savory of surroundings either.

Something clenched inside him when he thought back to the place he had been living at for so long, first alone and then together with Thorin. He hadn't been back there yet - for some reason he couldn't bring himself to step into the boundaries of their destroyed home again. Thorin had been there this morning and had brought back most of the necessary of things - clothes, mostly, and a few keepsakes he knew they were both fond of, like a few framed photographs of their families and their roadtrip through the States, Dwalin's orchids and Thorin's collector's edition of the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' book series, as well as his first edition of the "Sandman", signed by Neil Gaiman himself.

Dwalin called himself a coward in his mind and kept wondering what exactly it was that gave him such discomfort when he thought about going back to their old apartment. He had seen more than one crime scene in his time and usually he had never been overly bothered by it. Now, however, he began to understand why so many people, even those who had only been the victim of a simple burglary, were feeling acutely uncomfortable in their own homes afterwards. It wasn't only that he had been hurt physically - it was that the sanctuary of his own four walls had been violated and used against him. He wouldn't be able to set step into it again without feeling the sharp bite of the knife across his face and Daisy's teeth ripping off half of his ear. Not to mention the destruction Azog's other people had wrought and both Daisy's and his own blood painted on the walls.

Thorin seemed to sense his thoughts as Dwalin was labouring to get out of the car and limped over towards the door Nori had told them to wait in front of. He made no move to help Dwalin, knowing that his partner would rebuff any attempts at assistance, but frowned slightly instead.

"We should probably start looking for a new apartment at some point." he said quietly. Dwalin nodded, although he didn't answer him immediately. After everything that had happened both between and around them it seemed strange for him to think about such normal things as apartment hunting. It was such a normal activity in a time that was anything but normal for either of them.

"Yeah." he answered belatedly. "Although I would like to wait with it until Balin is- until Balin's funeral."

Thorin put a hand on his arm in wordless support after a moment of hesitation and this time, Dwalin didn't withdraw. Both of them still had a long way to go in terms of forgiveness, but it was a start and they were more than willing to work on it. They were saved from further conversation on the topic by Nori's arrival.

He deliberately shook Dwalin's hand first, giving him an honest smile and asking him how he was feeling before he turned to Thorin. Dwalin remembered that Thorin hadn't been talking to Nori directly ever since the incident with Bilbo Baggins, at least as far as he knew - the one that had led to his suspension, and, indirectly to Ori's death.

"Hey." Thorin greeted him quietly, obviously not quite knowing what else to say.

"Hey, Thorin." Nori nodded at him but made no move to shake his hand or speak any more. Thorin met his eyes briefly and then looked aside, until Dwalin broke the uncomfortable silence between them.

"How's Dori doing?" he asked Nori, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible without seeming pitying. Nori shrugged, but Dwalin could see the spark of pain that was briefly flaring up in his eyes.

"Sometimes alright, sometimes bad." he answered. "He's sleeping really badly. It's probably a good thing that we're both living together now for a while."

Dwalin nodded in quiet sympathy. Thorin closed his eyes for a moment, to find Nori looking at him when he opened them again. Dwalin almost knew what he was about to say - the words 'I am sorry' probably lay on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't dare speak them. They would sound cheap somehow, he knew, and couldn't possibly express everything Thorin felt. After a moment Nori just sighed, the topic evidently closed for him. Instead he proceeded to unlock the main door and hold it open for both of them to come inside.

"The apartment's on the first floor, I hope it won't be too bad for you with your leg?" he asked Dwalin.

Dwalin frowned slightly and eyed the narrow stairwell with disdain, but then he nodded.

"I'll be fine." he replied. Nori took him by his word and went ahead, up the stairs and around the corner until he almost vanished from their sight. Thorin remained behind Dwalin, keeping some distance as his partner laboriously began to ascend the steps one by one, teeth clenched but not making a single sound of distress or pain.

Nori had already unlocked the door when they arrived on the landing upstairs, holding it open until they came close and making an inviting gesture for them to step inside. He followed once they had stepped through the door and dropped his keys on the table. Dwalin and Thorin both began looking around almost immediately although there wasn't that much to see. It was a small apartment, about the size of their own, but a highly functional and relatively comfortable looking one. Nori evidently didn't use his flat enough to be storing many personal items in there - in a way it felt almost like a hotel room if it weren't for the occasional nice photographs on the wall and a few books that had clearly been read more than once.

"I got two more sets of keys made." Nori announced from where he was standing at the table. "I told my landlord you were going to live here for a little bit and, nice old lady that she is, she was fine with it as long as you, and I quote 'don't destroy anything or are too noisy'."

"We'll be careful." Dwalin promised with a tiny smile. "Thanks again for giving us your apartment to use. We promise we'll find something new as quickly as we can."

"It's alright, there's no rush." Nori waved his concerns aside. "I'll be staying with Dori for a while and then I just took on a job which will lead me away to the west coast for a while in a few months' time."

Dwalin knew Nori well enough to be aware that he wasn't doing this for Thorin and maybe not even wholly for Dwalin, either - but they had all lost a sibling in recent times and for some reason such a thing forged a bond despite anything else that might have happened. If help was needed, it would be given, even though they all had very different ways of dealing with their pain.

"Do you need any help with carrying your stuff inside?" Nori asked them and Dwalin shook his head after throwing a quick glance at Thorin who still seemed profoundly uncomfortable, especially when he looked at the blank spots on the wall that had probably contained family pictures. Dwalin guessed that Nori had taken them over to Dori's as long as he was there and didn't want to leave anything so personal with them.

"No, we'll be fine." he answered, knowing they didn't have that much anyway and that Thorin wouldn't mind carrying most of it.

"Alright." Nori sighed. "Then I'm off. If you have any question or something happens here, just give me a call."

"Of course." Dwalin nodded. Nori gave them a little wave, and was already on his way to the door when Thorin suddenly spoke up again.

"Thanks again." he said quietly. "And for letting me stay here with Dwalin, too."

He didn't have to add that it couldn't have been an easy decision for Nori to make. Dwalin could see the fight inside his friend when he turned around to Thorin, but in the end Nori managed a small smile and a shrug.

"Nah, it's not a problem. No use in keeping you two apart anyway, is there?"

Thorin didn't reply, but the hint of a smile flickered over his face, although his eyes remained grave and sad. Nori gave him a nod and, with another goodbye on his lips, went out of the door, leaving Dwalin and Thorin to stand in the middle of his apartment, slightly unsure of what to do now.

"You sit down and I'll go and get our stuff from the car." Thorin said finally, grabbing one of the set of keys that Nori had left on the table. Dwalin hesitated, suddenly feeling bad for not being able to help much even though there was nothing he could have done realistically.

Thorin sighed and looked at him, obviously knowing what was going on in his mind. Instead of saying anything, however, he just shook his head and opened the door to the stairwell again, propping it open so that he wouldn't have any trouble walking through with the boxes. Dwalin finally followed his suggestion and sat down, putting up his injured leg, but not before quickly filling up two glasses with water for them and putting them on the table. He knew they had beer, too, in one of the boxes and was vaguely hoping that Thorin would bring that one up first.

Dwalin began unpacking the boxes as soon as Thorin had brought up the first one (containing, as he noted with satisfaction, the items for their fridge including the beer). Nonetheless, his bad conscience amplified when he saw Thorin visibly limping by the time he brought up the last boxes. Stairs had never been kind on his bad knee.

Thorin sighed when he put down the last box, stretching and grimacing slightly as he bent down to remove the stopper from the door and then collapsed in the chair opposite Dwalin's.

"Beer?" Dwalin asked him and Thorin made a happy noise.

"This is why I love you." he grinned as Dwalin threw the can in his direction, holding it slightly awkwardly with his broken fingers. Dwalin chuckled and for a moment, the old lightness was back between them.

"Do you want me to cook tonight or shall we just order something?" Thorin asked after a moment of silence in which he had obviously enjoyed the beer. Dwalin took a sip of his own one and thought for a moment.

"Let's order. We'll be doing enough running around, no need for you to stand up for the rest of the evening too."

"Yeah." Thorin flashed him a grin. Then, a little more quietly, he added: "This feels good, somehow."

"What does?" Dwalin almost knew what he meant, but he couldn't quite put it into words himself.

"This." Thorin made a sweeping motion. "Feels a little like a new beginning, doesn't it? Even though it's not quite like actually moving to a new place."

Dwalin felt his lips form a small smile.

"Yeah." he admitted. Thorin was right - it didn't make Balin's death hurt any less or erase everything that had happened in the past few months, but he _was_ feeling as if he could breathe a little more easily. Maybe this was the start of something new.

Thorin was just about to reply when his phone rang. His gaze darkened slightly when he looked onto the display and Dwalin raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Gandalf." The sigh in Thorin's voice was almost audible before he took the call, with an expression as if he had bitten on a lemon. Dwalin remembered what Thorin had told him about when he had informed Gandalf that Dwalin had wanted in on everything they were doing; apparently Gandalf had been less than amused, but Thorin had been rather insistent. He could well imagine that there had been an argument between the two, but if anything, Thorin was even more stubborn than Dwalin when it came to doing things his (or, in this case, their) way.

Thorin nodded a few times, throwing in a 'yes', 'no', 'why?', 'about half an hour' from time to time. His conversation with Gandalf was short and once it was finished, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"I'm afraid dinner will have to wait a little longer." he said almost apologetically, even though it wasn't his fault. "But Gandalf wants to meet up with us as soon as possible because whatever he's going to tell us is apparently too important to be communicated via phone."

Dwalin groaned.

"Does it have to be today?" he grumbled.

"Yeah." Thorin looked exactly as happy with the idea as Dwalin was feeling. "Gandalf was rather...insistent. And I don't think he's the kind you leave waiting."

"Probably not." Dwalin agreed and finished off his beer. With a sigh he grabbed his crutch to stand up from his seat. Thorin joined him after a moment, putting their empty beer cans in the trash before they left.

"Is it far?" Dwalin asked him. Thorin shook his head.

"No, the address he gave me is only a short ride by car from here."

True to Thorin's predictions they didn't take long to get to the place Gandalf had told them to go. After a short conversation between them Thorin parked the car around the corner so it wouldn't immediately be seen in front of the bar where they were meeting the old man. They walked slowly towards the meeting point until Dwalin drew up short right in front of it, unable to hold back a small laugh.

"It's a gay bar."

Thorin looked up and almost choked on his own grin.

"Well, we'll fit right in then, won't we?" he teased and took Dwalin's arm after he saw that Dwalin wasn't withdrawing from his touch. They would have never acknowledged it, but both of them felt Dwalin leaning slightly on him to take the weight off his leg when they were ascending the steps towards the bar. He felt a rush of familiarity as they stepped through the doorway - a decade ago places like this had been his second home. It had been a fun time in his life and he had never regretted it, although his visits had lessened somewhat in frequency since he had started his relationship with Thorin.

Gandalf was waiting for them in a corner and after ordering some drinks, Dwalin and Thorin sat down opposite him. The old man nodded at them, but didn't say much at first, waiting until they all had their drinks.

"Are you still willing to follow through on what you were telling me?" Gandalf asked them, rather directly, once they were all comfortable. Dwalin exchanged a quick glance with Thorin.

"Of course." he answered. "Both of us."

"Good, good." Gandalf nodded. "It will take some time until we have truly formed a plan, but rest assured that we are not sitting by idly. Thorin, I was notified by Thranduil that you are free to come back and join the force again if you wish to do so and I would advise you to take him up on his offer."

Dwalin glanced over at Thorin but there was no surprise on his partner's face - he must have heard before and had been mulling the issue over in his head. Thorin gave him an apologetic little shrug for not telling him yet before answering Gandalf.

"I'm still thinking about it. But yes, I guess I will probably return once the funerals are over."

Dwalin nodded at his words, having expected little else. Despite everything that happened, Thorin still loved his job; and he was the kind of person that would need to be tied down in order to be kept from working. Gandalf nodded as well, evidently pleased with Thorin's answer. Dwalin wondered what he would have done had Thorin replied with the opposite.

"So what was so urgent you needed us to come around today?" Dwalin demanded to know. Gandalf arched one eyebrow at his slightly annoyed tone, but preferred not to comment on it.

"A simple matter of talking about who is going to be part of our little operation." he replied, seemingly calm and unfazed.

"If the matter is so simple," Thorin cut in. "Then why did it have to be right away and not tomorrow?" Dwalin was glad to hear that he wasn't the only one who had become truly annoyed with Gandalf's antics and his always so vague answers.

"Because the man I wanted to work with us on this can only make it here today, not tomorrow. His working schedule is rather...demanding, you must understand."

"And who is this man you are talking about?" Thorin inquired, slowly growing impatient.

"Why, I believe you have met him before although, of course, you didn't know that he was working for me back then and has been doing so for a very long time."

With those words Gandalf pressed a button on his phone and looked up. Dwalin and Thorin turned around in the same direction to see what or who he was looking at and saw someone standing up from where he had been sitting at a table hidden in one of the corners. He came over towards their corner, with a glass of beer in his hand. Dwalin could hear Thorin murmur a quiet curse when they recognised who it was and felt rather inclined to join in with the swearing. They both knew the man coming towards them now and looking rather uncomfortable with the entire setup.

Bilbo Baggins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have no idea how close I am to, after the racist events within the last year in the US, call this not a modern AU, but a modern fictional AU...because I'm pretty sure the police force I'm describing is not exactly what is in the US right now.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loooaaads of talking in this one, but some plot advancement in there, so don't be discouraged! Also Gandalf is getting a little bit of a smackdown again, whoopsie (I actually think he's awesome but let's be real...he isn't exactly a goody two shoes, not in Tolkien's world either xD).

Bilbo was unhappy.

He had initially agreed that meeting both Durinsson and his partner privately was a good idea before there would be an official assembly with all the members of the team that would be selected for the operation, one that he might not necessarily attend. Now he wasn't so sure anymore, especially when he looked into their faces - Gandalf seemed almost unbearably smug, if still guarded and ready to step in should the situation escalate, but the surprise on the two officers' faces quickly gave way to incredulity and then anger. Bilbo could hardly fault them for it. They had probably all hoped that they wouldn't have to meet each other again, not to speak about working together.

Thorin was the first one to stand up, shortly before Dwalin, and shake his hand although the contact lasted as short as possible.

"Mister Baggins." he nodded at Bilbo.

"Mister Durinsson, Mister Barkhun." Bilbo nodded back, feeling slightly stupid and definitely uncomfortable. He sat down and spent a moment putting his drink in the right position and taking a sip from it to buy them all some time.

"So. Uhm." He didn't quite know what to say and neither, it seemed, did the other two. Gandalf watched the three of them as if he were a guest at a particularly interesting stage play.

"How much do you know?" Thorin finally asked, the intent of his question clear. _How badly did you lie to us?_

Bilbo hesitated for a moment, not quite sure if he should really reveal his complete role in this entire affair. He exchanged a gaze with Gandalf and the old man gave him a barely noticeable nod. Bilbo was still skeptical - he doubted that Gandalf would be able to completely protect him from Thorin's and Dwalin's justified rage unless he had some kind of magic power Bilbo didn't know about. He took a deep breath and then told himself that this moment would have hadto come at _some_ point - he wouldn't be able to keep on evading the consequences of what he was doing forever. So best get it over with.

"I'm sure you've already heard from Gandalf about my rather...extensive involvement in the affairs surrounding Azog. I've been working undercover as Smaug's right hand man for over a decade now, all with the aim of gathering enough information to be able to expose him and, ideally, Azog as well."

There it was. It felt strange to say it out loud - although this was his life, his job description that he usually gave to others was a lot different than what he had just said and varied quite a bit depending on who he was talking to. He watched as Thorin and Dwalin took in the information he had just given them. Thorin's face went white when he arrived at the inevitable conclusion of Bilbo's words, but it was Dwalin who spoke first.

"Did you know about my brother's death?" His voice was deathly quiet, but his fingers were clamped around the beer in front of him so tightly that Bilbo half feared the glass would break any second.

"No, not early enough for my warning to come through." That, at least, was true. "Azog and Smaug planned it between themselves, but when I got wind of it, it was already too late."

Dwalin didn't look too convinced, but he said nothing more and Bilbo could see the tiredness in his eyes that was lurking behind his gruff demeanor. The last weeks hadn't been kind to him, that much was clear. Thorin seemed to feel his partner's desolation and inched a little closer towards him, as if to share his warmth.

"And Frerin?" he asked. "Did you tell us the truth about him?"

"In a way, yes." Bilbo knew he had to be careful now. Better say too little than too much. "I was once again too late with warning anyone and Azog acted out of his own volition when he arranged for him to be killed because he witnessed something he shouldn't have."

Thorin frowned, obviously not satisfied with the answer. Bilbo could see the wheels of his mind turning at high speed and it didn't take Thorin long to arrive at the conclusion that Bilbo had feared he would.

"The _Pinecone_." Thorin said very quietly and Bilbo could feel his insides contract painfully. He had known it would come to this the moment Gandalf had proposed the entire thing. That, however, didn't make it any easier. "We all thought that there had to be a leak somewhere, one that gave away our plans. It was you, wasn't it?"

This time Bilbo didn't quite manage to look in those piercing blue eyes.

"Yes." he said simply.

For a moment it seemed like time was frozen. Neither Thorin nor Dwalin moved and Bilbo could not fathom the restraint it must take for them to control their anger. Then Thorin stood up from his seat in a sudden, almost robotic movement.

"Excuse me." His voice was trembling from repressed rage. Bilbo inched his chair to the side so he could get out. Thorin strode past without a single look at him, hands balled into fists so tightly that his knuckles were standing out white. He vanished outside through the door a moment later.

Bilbo looked after him before he turned back to face Dwalin. The tension at their table still remained and there was a cold rage glinting Dwalin's eyes, more frightening than Thorin's one had been in its own way. It cost Bilbo all he had to appear calm and composed, especially since this was different from any confrontation he might have had with Azog or Smaug - because he knew that in this case, the rage against him was justified and rooted in truth.

"Do you have any idea what you did?" Dwalin's voice was as quiet as Thorin's had been earlier. Before Bilbo could answer, however, Gandalf intervened.

"He did what he had to." he said sharply. Something flared up in Dwalin's eyes as he met Gandalf's gaze and Bilbo was glad to momentarily not be the subject of his rage anymore. "It was the crucial step in gaining Smaug's trust. Without it we would never be where we are now."

"And where are we now?" Dwalin asked, still dangerously quiet. Bilbo saw that it cost him all strength to remain that way.

"At a point where we can finally take down the entire organisation from within." Gandalf retorted. Dwalin's eyes narrowed.

"You mean we are at a point where things have gotten so desperate that we are forced to act. My brother is dead, Gandalf. So are Óin, Ori, Frerin and a lot of other innocent people that have been killed in the time that you were waiting for things to happen. Did you know that Thorin sometimes still wakes up from nightmares where he is back in Azog's hands? Of course you didn't. Because you never _think_ about it. Because you have no consideration for those you are using to achieve your own end." His voice became loud during the last words, the fury in them palpable. He turned his head at the end of his little speech to look at Bilbo.

Bilbo hadn't even noticed that he'd held his breath through Dwalin's words. He had never heard the man say this much in one go and he doubted it happened often. He also doubted that it happened often that someone would dare to speak to Gandalf in such a way apart from the one time he had done it a few days ago.

"I'm sorry you see it that way." Gandalf's voice was calm and composed, but Bilbo could hear the steel beneath it and he was sure that Dwalin could, too, although it didn't seem to intimidate him. "And I am truly grieved by what has happened. But the fact is that Bilbo's work and the sacrifices of the others have made it possible for us to prevent a lot more deaths in the future and yes, I am willing to go this far for the good of all."

Dwalin snorted.

"Then it seems like you and I clearly have different points of view on this matter." he said, his eyes not leaving Bilbo's face. It was clear that the issue between them wasn't done yet, but Dwalin seemed to be waiting for something still.

"Does that mean you will step out?" Gandalf inquired with iron politeness. It was impossible to discern any emotions from his face, although the glint in his eyes told Bilbo that Gandalf would probably go to quite some lengths to get the officers to stay with them. Dwalin shrugged.

"I will wait for Thorin to return, then decide." he replied firmly. "It was his life that you almost destroyed first, after all."

Bilbo had already wondered why Dwalin hadn't gone after his partner, but he sensed that this was something that Thorin had to work out for himself, and Dwalin knew that, too. He honestly couldn't say whether Thorin would be coming back in or not and the next minutes passed in tense silence as they all sipped their drinks, Dwalin's fury still quietly simmering underneath the surface of his calm demeanor.

Finally the door opened and Thorin stepped back inside. He looked tired, as if he had suddenly exhausted himself, and his limp seemed more pronounced. Dwalin touched his arm in a brief gesture when he sat down and Bilbo had the feeling that a silent conversation was taking place between them that neither he nor Gandalf were privy to. He could see Dwalin nodding slightly at the end of it, just before Thorin opened his mouth to speak.

"I won't forget what has happened." he said and Bilbo was surprised to find that the rage in his voice seemed almost gone, replaced by a cold firmness instead. "But right now, I am willing to push past it for the sake of our mission, provided that both of you will be fully honest with us from now on."

Dwalin nodded and Bilbo could see their shoulders touching slightly again.

"I cannot speak for Gandalf, but I certainly will be." he offered Thorin and Dwalin. It was the least he could do for them and provided that they were all in this together now, it didn't seem like too much of a problem anyway. Gandalf, however...the old man just cocked his head slightly before he voiced a small agreement, although they were sure that he would probably withhold information from all of them should he find it necessary to do so. Thorin, Dwalin and Bilbo all knew, however, that this was as good as they could expect from him at the moment.

"So what is the plan?" Dwalin asked them, his grey eyes expectant as he looked at them.

"We aren't one hundred percent sure as of yet." Bilbo admitted and he saw the anger in both of their faces bubbling back to the surface. So he hurried to add: "But we _do_ have a general idea already, yes. It would be best if we could get both Azog and Smaug together and catch them in some sort of illegal act. Once they are both out of the picture we will be free to use the safety copies of the documents you provided us with, Thorin, to dig up more in the mansion where I am sure we can find a lot. I've also put a few minor papers aside over the years when nobody noticed that we can use as further leads."

"So basically, we sit and wait until the right moment has come." Thorin translated.

"I guess you can say it like that, yes." Bilbo acceded. Thorin frowned.

"But there is no guarantee that they will meet up anytime soon, especially in a place that is accessible to us." he mused. "That's why you accepted my offer, isn't it? So that I can act as bait to draw them out."

Bilbo exchanged a glance with Gandalf. Thorin had come to the heart of the problem more quickly than they'd thought.

"Yes." Bilbo admitted reluctantly. He still didn't feel good about using Thorin this way and had hoped to be able to dissuade him from it during this meeting. A single look at the hardness and determination in Thorin's eyes taught him better.

"Isn't there a more effective way?" Dwalin asked, ignoring Thorin's sharp glance in his direction. Bilbo guessed they had probably talked about this topic already.

Gandalf shook his head, a faint note of regret in his voice when he spoke.

"I'm afraid not. And I can assure you we will take every measure possible to ensure Officer Durinsson's safety."

Thorin snorted at that and Bilbo could almost understand why.

"We will have to think of the best way to aggravate them. I don't suggest a direct challenge from you - knowing Smaug he would just send one of his henchmen, probably a sniper, instead to have you killed instantly." Bilbo hated how dispassionate his voice sounded at the prospect. He had been acting in this piece for far too long, it seemed. Gandalf nodded at this words and continued his train of thought.

"So we will have to think of something else. Maybe, if they have a meeting planned already, we will somehow manage to get you in. Once they attempt to kill you we can come in, similarly as we did the last time. That way we will catch them in the act and have perfect legal grounds to go against them."

"That sounds like a fantastic plan to get Thorin killed." Dwalin said flatly. Thorin put a hand on his arm and squeezed briefly, but his partner's anger (or was it fear? Bilbo couldn't tell) wasn't so easily quelled. Bilbo had to agree with him. Gandalf's idea wasn't just flimsy, it was also dangerous.

"And yet it is the best plan we have so far." Gandalf retorted. "There will hopefully be enough time to refine it so it will end in no more bloodshed."

Bilbo didn't quite believe that that would be possible, but he kept quiet - as did Dwalin and Thorin although Dwalin's expression made it clear that the last word on this issue hadn't been spoken yet.

"In the mean time, however, there is still a lot of work to be done." Gandalf continued. "The entire operation will need to be planned out in detail, from how we are going to arrest them to a concise list of the officers that will be part of the team. And you two will be expected back at work at some point which will be vital so that we can lead Azog to believe that everything is still normal."

The moment he said it it became clear to Bilbo just what a monumental task was lying before them - usually Smaug's and Azog's meeting happened with no more than a day's warning ahead which would give them only a few hours to draw up a good plan of storming wherever the meeting was going to take place.

"We need someone who knows the SWAT unit very well and who would be able to come up with a plan in less than 24 hours should it be needed." he mused.

Thorin and Dwalin exchanged a glance and he saw something harden on Dwalin's face. Belatedly Bilbo remembered that his brother Balin had always been the tactical leader of their team before his death.

"I think Section chief Greenwood might be a good choice." Gandalf remarked. Thorin and Dwalin both looked like someone had just forced them to bite into a lemon.

"I know you haven't always been on the best of terms with him..." Gandalf continued and Dwalin muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'understatement'. Gandalf threw him a sharp glance before he kept on talking. "...but he knows his team and has had a lot of experience with operations like this. Furthermore, we have worked together before and so he knows a good part of the back story of Smaug and Azog already."

Both Thorin and Dwalin looked more than unhappy, but they kept silent about their misgivings. Bilbo hadn't met Thranduil in person yet, but he heard the story about the man - that he was an excellent police officer although very detached and rather harsh at times. He was well respected by the other sections chiefs and those higher up in the force as well as most of those working under him, but especially he and Thorin had never gotten along well, apparently the source for quite a few jokes in the force.

"You will brief him on the complete situation?" Thorin asked Gandalf and the old man nodded. Thorin looked rather relieved that the role hadn't been pressed upon him.

"How much are you planning on telling him?" Bilbo felt compelled to ask the question. Even though he knew that Thranduil was trustworthy he didn't really want to have his role revealed to yet another person besides Gandalf and now the two officers sitting in front of him. He had already been uncomfortable with telling Dwalin and Thorin everything, but had quietly agreed since somehow he felt he owed it to them. Thranduil, however, was a different situation. Bilbo had only survived this far by being more than paranoid and he wasn't willing to let go of that so quickly.

"I will tell him that we have an inside source for information." Gandalf replied, clearly aware of what was going on in Bilbo's head. "But I won't say any names. So you can rest assured that you will remain anonymous for now. However, you realise that once this is over, Smaug will quickly know that it was you who sold him out. We only get this one try."

"I know." Bilbo couldn't quite keep the acid out of his voice. Of course he was aware of what Gandalf had just been saying. The constant fear of being discovered had been his companion for so long that he had almost gotten used to it.

With that, their conversation was basically over. Dwalin and Thorin looked tired and as if they could not wait to return home and so, after a few more words, they said goodbye and left, their arms brushing slightly with every other step. Bilbo suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to leave as well and bid his farewell to Gandalf soon after.

A certain part of him was rather relieved that it would soon be over. He was sure that afterwards he would probably retire, no matter how much Gandalf wanted him to take on another job for him. With everything that had happened, this part of his life was over. He just hoped that there would be enough left of his peace of mind to retire peacefully.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyyy I decide to speed things up a little with this one. We need some action again! First, however, the sad. Much sad. :(

As much as Dwalin had dreaded it, the day of Balin's funeral had finally come. He had been unable to delay it any longer although if he could, he would have skipped the memorial service altogether. It was only with mainly Dís' help that he had finally been able to face the task and even then he had wanted to keep everything to a minimum. Thorin had stayed away from him during the planning, able to sense that this was something that Dwalin had to do without him; he had only come when Dwalin had explicitly asked for his opinion and left him to his own devices apart from that.

They went to the service together, walking side by side and arms almost brushing. They hadn't spoken much that day, had breakfast after getting up and gotten ready in silence. The day and what it would bring were weighing heavily on them, like a blanket of lead around their shoulders that slowed their steps and cloaked their thoughts in heaviness. Dwalin had requested that it be a private memorial service - a few of Balin's closest friends from the force were there as well as him and Thorin and Dís, together with Fíli and Kíli. Dwalin and Balin had no other close family left alive. Somehow it felt right, however - a big funeral with numerous attendants would have been tedious and Dwalin was sure that his brother wouldn't have liked it either. The cremation and subsequent private memorial service was what he would have wanted. Dwalin had opted that the ashes and the cremation urn would remain in the columbarium of same cemetery that already housed the urns of their parents.

He barely listened to the speeches and couldn't remember what his own words were even as he was saying them. Somehow it was like he was watching himself through a glass wall but without really seeing what was going on. Dís had opted to do a speech instead of Thorin after they had both asked her to; Thorin told Dwalin that he still felt like he didn't have any right to say anything and Dwalin had left it at that when he saw the pain in his eyes.

It was Dís' speech that slowly began to pull him out of his stillness, especially when she chose not to say the usual words but rather began to tell anecdotes from the time they had shared together. Dwalin hadn't truly cried in the past week - somehow his sadness had run too deep, had been beyond tears but now he could feel his eyes slowly misting over as the realisation sank in that he would truly never see his brother again. His hands were suddenly trembling and he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.

Suddenly there was a soft touch on his little finger and he looked over to see Thorin's hand lying next to his, an offer of peace and comfort. Dwalin moved his own slowly towards him and then Thorin's hand was covering his, squeezing gently and providing an anchor that kept him from being swept away. Thorin looked at him when the service was over and must have seen how lost Dwalin was.

"Wanna go home?" he asked him softly. Dwalin nodded.

Thorin took it upon himself to thank the funeral director for the service and all the work he had done for him, as well as thank the rest of the guests for coming and wishing them a good journey home. Meanwhile, Dwalin was standing forlorn in a corner and looking at nothing. His leg was still hurting and today worse than most days, but somehow he welcomed the pain as a thing that anchored him to reality. Suddenly he could feel someone stepping close. He looked up to see Dís standing there and giving him a small smile, not saying anything but making sure that nobody else was talking to him either.

Finally everything was done and they ventured outside towards their cars. Dwalin accepted the quick hugs from Fíli and Kíli and returned the one that Dís gave him tightly.

"Thank you." he told her quietly. There was no need to say more - like her brother, she seemed to be able to understand him intuitively and she knew it was for everything she had done for both of them in the last weeks.

"You're always welcome, you know that." Dís smiled at him, although the shadow of grief in her eyes was still palpable. "You're family, after all."

A strange rush of warmth went through Dwalin at her words, softening the edges of the sharp emptiness inside him. Even if his relationship with Thorin should end some day, he knew that he would always be able to rely on Dís and her sons. He hugged her tightly once more before stepping back. Thorin had a few words with his sister and nephews in which he promised to call them soon and embraced them once more. Then he followed Dwalin to their car, getting in on the driver's side, but not starting the motor immediately. Instead he took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, Dwalin could see the exhaustion on his face. Only then did it occur to him how much this memorial service must have reminded him of Frerin's funeral.

"Thanks for your help back there." Dwalin told him. "I'm not sure I could have-"

"It's alright." Thorin turned to give him a little smile. "I know how exhausting these things can be."

He didn't say anything more than that but the knowledge of what had happened was still weighing heavily on their mind. With a sigh he started the car.

*

The time seemed to pass both slowly and rapidly at the same time. After almost a year Dwalin was unable to say where it had gone - looking back, things were still a haze for him ever since the moment his doorbell had rung and he had opened it to find Daisy standing there with a non-committal smile on her face.

He and Thorin had returned to work together on the same day, although he could feel the tension thrumming through his partner the closer they came to the MOP headquarters. Thorin had evaded the subject of his colleagues and what he would tell them for days and if he was honest, Dwalin didn't quite know how to help him with this particular issue either. So far, Thorin simply seemed to be evading the problem - he buried himself in his usual work, barely talking to anyone unless they talked to him and picking up the teaching of the new recruits again whereas Dwalin did the numerous small tasks expected of him until he was able to return to active field work once more.

His brother's (and Ori and Óin's absence as well) felt like holes that he stumbled over at the most unexpected moments - a caller on the phone who wanted to talk to Balin, a sheet of paper with Ori's notes on them, a report that Óin had written.

It was a strange sort of normality that had found him and Thorin again, much removed from what it had once been but still slowly putting their lives back into their regular tracks. They still hadn't found a new apartment to live in, possibly because neither of them was showing enough motivation for searching at the moment. Nori didn't seem to mind them staying in his one, as long as they were still paying the rent regularly. He was around and about most of the time, visiting his brother whenever he returned to Boston. Dori had quit his job at the MOP and had moved on to a different police department. Dwalin hadn't seen him since before Ori's death.

Things slowly began to knit themselves together again between him and Thorin as well. They had to re-learn each other to a certain extent, had to make a constant effort to extend their trust again and be as open with each other as possible. It required work on both of their parts, but both Dwalin and Thorin were willing to invest the time and energy to keep their relationship going. It showed itself in small things at first - a cuddle on the sofa, an open conversation about Thorin still feeling awkward at work, tentative kisses in the middle of the night when neither of them was able to sleep. It was different than before, yes, but Dwalin could have neither called it better or worse. There was a newfound intimacy between them now that hadn't been there before, one that softened the edges and let them explore different areas of themselves they had not known before.

Dwalin still remembered the moment Thorin had first consciously touched the scar on his face. It had been late at night when both of them had returned from their evening shift, too tired to speak much after a long day at work. Thorin was limping again after a full day of training with the recruits and Dwalin quietly offered to warm up the remnants of yesterday's dinner. Most of Dwalin's own external wounds had healed by now although on bad days he still flinched whenever the doorbell rang and often enough he found his dreams haunted by what had happened. It occurred in this particular night again as well - Dwalin didn't even know what the trigger had been, maybe a sound from afar that sounded like an explosion or the remnants of his own nightmares. Whatever it had been, he woke up with a shout on his lips, his hand feeling blindly for the knife he kept hidden in the nightstand and that had been a present of Thorin's.

It took him a while to calm his ragged breathing enough so that he was aware of his surroundings again. He switched on the lamp on his nightstand to make sure that there was truly no intruder in their room, although the feeling of uneasiness lingered like a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Dwalin?" Thorin asked sleepily. He shifted and rubbed his eyes, blinking against the brightness of the light. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Just a nightmare." Dwalin realised that the bright light probably wasn't exactly great for sleeping. "Did I wake you up? I'm sorry."

"No, I was only dozing." Dwalin couldn't tell whether Thorin was lying or not. "Don't worry."

Slowly, Dwalin relaxed again and moved back under the covers of the bed, although he kept the light on for a little bit longer.

"Wanna talk about it?" Thorin asked him all of a sudden. Dwalin almost smiled when he remembered a different situation more than five years ago where it had been the other way round, Thorin being kept up by nightmares and Dwalin offering him the opportunity to talk. It was almost a perfect mirror image. How much had changed since then.

"No, it'll be fine." Dwalin told him, just as Thorin had. "Don't worry."

"I said the same back then." Thorin smiled sadly. "And it wasn't fine."

Dwalin didn't know what to reply, knowing that Thorin was right. He turned so he could see Thorin's face, still bathed in the yellow light of the lamp. Thorin slowly lifted his hand to Dwalin's face and, when Dwalin didn't move away, traced the line of the fresh scar across his brow and over his nose with a gentle touch.

"Every time I see it, I think it could as well have been me who held that knife." he admitted quietly. "Sometimes, in my dreams, that's exactly what happens."

Dwalin caught his hand and held it in a firm grip. Thorin's fingers were cold and he curled his own ones around his in order to try and warm them.

"They're just dreams." he said. "Despite everything that happened, you were the one who saved me in the end. Don't forget."

"I don't think any of us will ever be able to forget." Thorin remarked ruefully.

"Probably not." Dwalin had to agree with him. "But maybe our dreams will leave us alone at some point."

"Maybe, yes." Thorin drew Dwalin's hand close and pressed a kiss on his skin. Dwalin smiled and shifted his body closer to that of his partner until he could feel the warmth radiating from Thorin under his blanket. Thorin's other hand was now deliberately travelling over him, tracing the outlines of scars both old and new with a light touch until Dwalin made a sound deep in his throat and pulled him close for a feverish kiss.

They'd slept with each other again that night, for the first time in months. It had been strange and yet achingly familiar. They were both careful and tentative at first, trying to rediscover what the other was still comfortable with and what was now off-limits for them. Somehow, being physically close had become even more important to them now than it had been before and there was barely a finger's breadth of space left between them as they slowly brought each other to the climax. Dwalin fell asleep with Thorin's arms wrapped securely around him that night, heat radiating from both of their bodies as they lay hidden underneath a single blanket.

Of course, behind everything that had apparently returned to normal there always loomed the point in the future that had the potential of changing their lives yet again, the plan they were hatching in secret with Gandalf's and Bilbo's assistance. Dwalin was still glad that it hadn't fallen on him or Thorin to tell Thranduil of everything - he didn't really want to imagine his chief's reaction to their propositions. If the new plan changed anything in Thranduil's thinking or the way he treated Thorin, it didn't show. The relationship between them (as between him and Dwalin) was still strenuous and they avoided each other as much as possible, although they all made an effort to work together as effectively as possible, for the sake of the unit if nothing else.

There was a strange tension in waiting for all of them - Dwalin both dreaded and wished for the call to come that would tell them that their operation would finally be set into motion. He finally wanted it to be over so they could move on with their lives, but there was a deeply seated fear inside him of what those events would bring. One afternoon after he had woken up from the nap after his night shift he asked himself what he would do should Thorin truly die this time and he found that he didn't have an answer. His mind, the loss of Balin having left it still aching and raw, simply refused to consider the thought. If Thorin was ever haunted by similar thought about Dwalin he didn't say so; but sometimes the way he looked at him seemed as if he was trying to catch hold of something that already seemed lost.

The call came on a late afternoon, when Dwalin was at home and Thorin still at the police station although he would be finishing his work soon. The news must have come to Thranduil first and from him to Thorin, for it was Thorin who called him at home.

"What is it?" Dwalin took the call as soon as he saw Thorin's number on the display. He knew immediately that something must have happened - his partner usually only called when something was out of the ordinary. Suddenly, all the lingering sleepiness in his body vanished.

"It's happening." Thorin didn't waste any time with greetings. "Apparently Bilbo contacted Gandalf earlier today who immediately called Thranduil who then relayed the message to me as quickly as possible."

"When? Where? Do you want me to come down?" Dwalin didn't lose any time with his questions either.

"Not over the phone." Thorin replied. Dwalin could clearly hear the tension in his voice. "But yeah, come as quickly as possible if you can. Gandalf is already on his way here, too."

"Alright, I'm on my way." Dwalin couldn't help but add: "But don't do anything rash or stupid without me, alright?"

He could almost hear Thorin's small grin on the other end of the line.

"Never." Then the phone disconnected.

Dwalin sighed as he got changed into clothes that he could actually wear outside in contrast to the simple undershirt and house pants he was wearing now. He was both thrumming with tension and incredibly tired; as if a strange part of himself was watching his own actions and calmly analyzing what was happening whereas the other was ready to fight with tooth and nail to preserve what was his.

His colleagues seemed surprised to see him back so quickly after he had gone home from his night shift in the morning, but he tried to dispel their worry, even though he must not have looked overly convincing when doing so. Especially Dáin and Tauriel kept throwing him worried glances which he chose to ignore for the moment.

Thorin was still sitting at his usual workplace, but instead of working he was staring out of the window and twirling a pencil in his hand, obviously lost in his thoughts. Dwalin stepped closer.

"Hey."

Thorin's turned around at the sound of his voice and gave him a quick smile, the movement of his hands stilling.

"Hey." With a little sigh he stood up and nodded in the direction of Thranduil's office.

"Gandalf is here already." he told Dwalin. "But I didn't particularly want to sit around with only those two as company whilst waiting for you, so I tried to get some more work done."

"Doesn't look like it worked out so well." Dwalin teased him gently with a look at the chaos on Thorin's desk. He could understand why he hadn't wanted to wait together with Thranduil and Gandalf - one of them was bad enough but to be alone with both of them...more enough to drive any sane man mad, probably.

"It didn't." There it was again, that small grin flickering over Thorin's face.

"Alright then, shall we go?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I was a /little/ bit too fast when I promised you action in this chapter. Uhm. Somehow it turned into another setup chapter although it contains quite a few important scenes, I daresay. The next one will jump right into the fray, however, I promise!

Gandalf and Thranduil turned and nodded in almost absurd synchronicity when Dwalin and Thorin entered. Neither of them stood up, but Gandalf offered them the two remaining chairs in the room. It was strange how Thranduil was the one sitting behind his desk, but it was still more than clear who was really in power here - Gandalf's eyes were shining and it seemed like his entire form was quivering in barely suppressed anticipation.

Thorin and Dwalin sat down next to each other, shifting their chairs so that they were facing both of their superiors at the same time. Thranduil and Gandalf exchanged a few glances before Gandalf began to talk.

"We've had message from Bilbo earlier." he told them, his voice serious. "Apparently Smaug and Azog will meet away from Smaug's villa tomorrow. Despite my orders to do otherwise, Bilbo has been taking increasingly high risks and has now managed to collect enough incriminating evidence during his time there now that I was able to get a warrant for both of them."

Dwalin and Thorin nodded, having guessed as much from the messages they had received earlier. Dwalin was impressed with what Baggins had done and how far he had apparently gone to protect Thorin - ' _and quite rightly so, seeing that he has managed to ruin his life once already_ ' an angry voice in his head whispered. Still, he was grateful that for now, the option of having to use Thorin as a living bait for Azog and Smaug was finally off the table. Dwalin felt his hand clench into fists, relief surging through him that the time for action had finally come although there was still a sense of trepidation in the back of his head questioning whether all of them would get through it unharmed.

"Speed will be of the essence tomorrow." Gandalf continued. "That, and stealth - we don't want anyone knowing that we are coming, so we are going to have to keep the number of people involved to a minimum."

"The planning of the actual raid will be my task." Thranduil took over from Gandalf. "And for that, Durinsson, I'll require your help."

Dwalin looked over to his partner who sat there as if he had been hit by lightning. Even though it had been disguised as an order, Thranduil had more or less just asked Thorin for help and, at the same time, acknowledged that Thorin was now basically filling Balin's position for it had been Dwalin's brother who had usually helped in planning raids. Thorin caught himself quickly and looked over to Dwalin before he spoke, a silent apology in his eyes. Dwalin gave him a quick nod, wondering if this was what Thorin must have felt like when Thranduil had appointed Dwalin as the new strike leader of Thorin's team after it had become clear that Thorin would never be able to return to active duty.

"Whatever is needed." he acknowledged Thranduil's order. Both he and Dwalin knew that it meant they would get little sleep this night. "And if I may suggest, sir...Dwalin and Dáin as the two team leaders should be present as well, at least during the final stages of planning."

Thranduil cocked his head slightly, giving Thorin's suggestion honest consideration. If Dwalin hadn't known better he almost thought that there was a whiff of mutual respect in the air between the two now.

"Agreed." he finally nodded. "I will make the calls to assemble the necessary personnel when they are needed." Thorin inclined his head briefly in acknowledgement of his chief's words.

"I will also need all the information on the location that Baggins can get me." Thranduil continued in Gandalf's correction. "Every little detail could be vital to the success of this operation. I don't want anything like _Operation Frying Pan_ to happen again."

Thorin flinched slightly at the mention of the night where it had all gone wrong and Dwalin had to resist the urge to reach over and squeeze his arm.

"Probably facilitated this time by the fact that we don't have a spy in our ranks anymore to sell us out." he couldn't help but murmur, despite the sharp glances both Gandalf and Thranduil were throwing him. Of course Thranduil decided not to play any heed to his remark and smoothly continued.

"I don't have to remind anyone here that if we aren't able to catch them both at the same time, the plan will have failed and a lot of lives will be in acute danger."

Everyone nodded as his words, a moment of heavy silence descending on the room.

"We should still think about a contingency plan." Dwalin remarked, his voice falling through the silence like a heavy hammer. "No matter how perfect our planning, there is always the chance that something might go wrong."

"It will work. This time, it will. " Gandalf replied with an air of confidence around him and Dwalin could do nothing but shake his head.

"Still, it would be better to have one in case we need it."

"I'll see what I can do." Obviously Thranduil wasn't as convinced of the operation's success as Gandalf was. It felt strange agreeing with his chief about something, Dwalin thought. He looked over to Thorin and saw the same thought cross his mind by the brief spark of amusement that was flaring up in Thorin's eyes. There was no doubt that Thorin was already compiling lists in his mind with the phone numbers of people he had to call when everything went south and tell them to get somewhere safe. He knew as well as Dwalin did that Smaug wouldn't stop at hurting those close to them in revenge or threat. Dwalin felt a bitter ache inside him at the thought that at least he didn't have any close family that needed to be warned.

"Good." Gandalf nodded, although he still seemed convinced that there was no need for a contingency plan. "Then I'll work on getting you all the information that I have so that we can begin the planning as soon as possible."

Thranduil nodded, his gesture one of dismissal for Thorin and Dwalin. Dwalin was only too glad to comply - despite the urgency of the situation and the fact that he and Thranduil were suddenly having similar opinions, the room had almost become stifling. Thorin stepped out behind him, knowing that he would get called back in to help with the planning soon enough and sighed.

"Looks like it's going to be a long night." he remarked. He was already looking tired.

"Yeah." Dwalin pinched the bridge of his nose and mirrored his partner's sigh. He was still tired from the exhausting shift the night before and even the adrenaline from what was happening did little now to disperse that feeling. The waiting before an operation could start was always the worst.

"Do you want to order some dinner to eat here and then you get some sleep whilst I try and plan this with Thranduil?" Thorin asked him, knowing full well that there was nothing that could persuade his partner to go home and take another nap there now.

"Sounds good." Dwalin stretched slightly and noticed the grumbling of his stomach with a little laugh. He hadn't really realised how hungry he was during everything that had happened. "Do you think we should ask the others if they want some, too?"

Thorin frowned and looked around the office for a moment - Tauriel was here and Glóin, too, plus a few other members of their teams that had just come in from their shift that had ended at 4pm and who were currently finishing up some paperwork. Then he gave Dwalin a slight nod.

"Hey, anybody want some takeout? I know it's a bit early, but we're ordering out if you want to throw in your orders, too."

Everybody in the office looked up at Dwalin's words before Tauriel raised her hand and shouted out her standard order in Dwalin's direction. The others soon followed and Dwalin found himself with an entire list of orders that he relayed to their favorite takeout place via phone. Thorin smiled at the sheen of normality that it brought - the entire MOP team often used to have their meals together after a shift had ended, be it at dinner time, in the middle of the night or early at morning. He hadn't participated in them since Frerin's death and knew that the entire unit had been under shock after the explosion that had killed Óin, Ori and Balin, so he guessed that there hadn't truly been that many social events either.

He and Dwalin returned to their desks whilst waiting for their order to arrive. Dwalin looked over to Thorin as he kept shifting papers on his desk back and forth and found himself as unable to concentrate on his work as his partner was. Too much would be happening tonight and tomorrow for them to be able to keep their minds on simple work. It was almost a relief when their order arrived and they all came rolling on their chairs (far too lazy to stand up) to the middle of the office to spread the paper boxes with the food between them.

"By the way, Dwalin, why are you actually here right now? Shouldn't you be at home?" Tauriel asked him between two mouthfuls of her food.

Dwalin and Thorin exchanged a quick glance before Dwalin answered.

"Thranduil called me in to help with some planning. If everything goes as we hope, we might have a major operation tomorrow." He didn't give them more information than that although he wished he could have, knowing how nerve-racking it was to get thrown into something like this out of nowhere. But Thranduil had been right - the fewer people knew about it for the moment, the better. At least their colleagues were used to the secrecy and did not dig any further into the matter.

"I finally cleaned out Óin's desk the other day." Glóin said suddenly. Dwalin could see Thorin's movements stilling as he looked down at his food without eating any of it. Glóin's gaze wandered over Thorin but he chose not to say anything to him. Instead he pulled out a plastic bag from besides his desk and lifted it up.

"You all know how much my brother loved sweets. It seems like we slightly underestimated his hunger though..." He opened the bag and presented to them the multitude of small packages of various sweets from Twizzlers to Haribo all thrown in there in a rather chaotic way.

"Wow." Tauriel sounded impressed. "Did he collect them all for Halloween already? Or was he planning on throwing a massive party?"

"Not that I know of." Glóin's smile was slightly lopsided. That it had taken him so long to clean out his brother's desk told everyone how much Óin's death was still hurting him. "But I guess we'll never know..."

"And what are we going to do with them now?" Dwalin asked him. "Would be a shame to throw them all away..."

Glóin snorted. "Yeah, it would be. I thought we could divide them amongst the others in the office. Just take whatever you want and I'll leave the rest for those who aren't here right now."

After that, everyone resumed eating, small threads of conversation flying through the air and giving the illusion that normality had returned to the MOP headquarters. They collected all their waste from the meal in a trashbag and on their way back to their desks, everyone slipped by Glóin, taking a few of the sweets with them. Dwalin observed Thorin slinking back towards his own work without going past his colleague and was about to say something when Glóin stood up with a sigh and walked over to Thorin.

"Hey." he said quietly, lifting the bag. "You want some as well? I know my brother would have wanted you to."

Thorin looked up at Glóin briefly before averting his eyes.

"I'm not sure I-"

"Fuck that." Glóin suddenly said. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive everything that has happened, but I know you and you won't forgive yourself either in the first place. Seems unfair of me to add on to that. So go and take some of these sweets, come on."

Thorin hesitated for another few moments before following what Glóin had said.

"Thank you." he told him quietly. "I-"

His words were interrupted by the sound of Thranduil's office door opening and their chief sticking his head out until his gaze connected with Thorin's.

"Durinsson." Thranduil's voice wasn't loud, but it still could be heard throughout the entire room. The gazes of the others wandered between the two, but Thorin just nodded and gave them an apologetic smile before he went over to enter their chief's office. The rest of the night would be spent scheming and planning and Dwalin wondered how many cups of coffee would have found their end in all of their stomachs by the morning.

He sat down at the table, trying to get some more work done before Thorin and Thranduil would need him, but of course it was as hard for him to concentrate as before. When he tried for the fifth time to finish writing a paragraph in his most recent report, the door to their office opened again and Dáin came in. He looked tired and not exactly happy that he had been called in, away from an evening with his family. But as leader of one of the major SWAT teams it was sometimes unavoidable. Dáin came over to Dwalin as soon as he had dropped his things at his desk.

"Hey." He gave Dwalin a brief smile that Dwalin reciprocated.

"So did Thranduil call you in?" he asked Dáin.

"Yeah." Dáin replied with a sigh. "My family wasn't exactly happy about it. Seems like we won't get much sleep tonight, will we..."

"Probably not." Dwalin agreed. "Thranduil's cooped up with Thorin and Gandalf in his office at the moment and they're doing the initial planning for an operation tomorrow, but they'll want our help with the finalization of things."

Dáin frowned briefly, then nodded.

"Do you have any idea what the goal of the operation tomorrow is going to be?"

"Yeah." Dwalin nodded, then raised his brows and looked at the others in the office. "Want to grab a coffee?"

Dáin agreed with him, inclining his head briefly to show he had understood Dwalin's hint. They made their way to the little common room with the kitchen and, most importantly, coffee machine in it and waited until they both had their fresh coffees in hand before going into the small sitting room next to it and closing the door so that nobody else would hear what they were talking about.

"Alright, now out with it." Dáin looked straight at Dwalin, the gaze from his dark eyes piercing. Of course he knew that this wasn't just another simple operation. Dwalin sighed and rubbed his forehead, thinking about how he could summarize everything with as few words as possible before he told Dáin everything he thought he should know. Dáin's eyes narrowed as Dwalin was talking, but he didn't say a single word until he was finished.

"So this is it then." he finally said. "The last big showdown or however you want to call it. Sounds like straight from a crappy movie, if you ask me."

"''Ah, we'll get together, have a few laughs...'" Dwalin murmured under his breath.

"I said 'crappy movie'." Dáin chuckled, before his face turned serious again. "And Thorin? How's he holding up?"

Dwalin shrugged, wondering how much he could tell Dáin, weighing it between how much Thorin would want his friend to know (which was likely somewhere around nothing) and how much Dáin needed to know (which was certainly a little more than just 'nothing').

"He's tense and often pretty distant still, but doing better than before." Dwalin told him. "Sometimes he still snaps out of seemingly nowhere, but you can trust him. He wants Azog and Smaug behind bars more than any of us, I think, maybe even more than Dori, Glóin, or me."

Dáin nodded, considering the implications of what Dwalin had just told him. He seemed about to reply when there was a loud bang to be heard from outside the room and both of them jumped up from their chairs, hands automatically moving to grip weapons they weren't actually carrying. Dwalin was out of the door a split second before Dáin, although he breathed a sigh of relief when the only source for the noise he could find was a very angry looking Thorin standing in the office and skewering his desk with his gaze. The noise had probably been him banging Thranduil's office door.

"Already finished with the meeting?" Dwalin asked him and Thorin turned around fully to face him, still frowning angrily. He acknowledged Dáin's presence with a quick smile and nod before answering his partner's question.

"Sort of. We'll need you and Dáin for the rest of the planning. I just wanted to have a...little break before we continued."

"So what did you argue about?" Dwalin wanted to know. Even if Thorin might downplay whatever it was that had enraged and upset him so, Dwalin thought he had a right to know about it. Thorin grimaced.

"We talked about who was going to be assigned which role tomorrow. Thranduil insisted that I'd be the one coordinating everything since I'm not cleared for active field work. I wasn't...happy about that even though he's right. My being there would only be a liability for the team." Thorin's voice sounded bitter. It was an old issue, but one that still grated at him from time to time, the fact that he could never be out actively with his team again. Both he and Dwalin knew that with this mission, he had effectively been handed Balin's role during operations now which gave him at least some kind of control over the situation back and was no less important than that of the active teams in the field.

"I know I'll feel safer knowing that it's you guarding my back." Dáin said suddenly. Thorin blinked at the unexpected commentary before a smile entered his face.

"Thanks, Dáin, I'll be giving my best." he told him. "Let's just hope that we'll manage to catch those bastards this time around."

Dwalin nodded in accordance, reaching out to squeeze Thorin's arm quickly.

"Alright then. Shall we go back in then and see what kind of plan you and Thranduil came up with?"


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The action you have all been waiting for! I hope you'll enjoy it! =D

It was maybe the hardest thing Bilbo had ever done to stay calm in this situation. Of course he was expected to accompany Smaug to his meeting with Azog - as practically his right hand man there was no way that he wouldn't. Furthermore, he could show absolutely no sign that anything was out of the ordinary - Smaug had an almost animalistic instinct for other people's fear and he would notice any change in behavior immediately. If Smaug knew what was happening...Bilbo shuddered. He could only hope that Gandalf's promise would hold true and the SWAT units waiting for them would manage to get him out before all hell broke loose.

The meeting took place on the premises of an abandoned nightclub, not unlike the _Pinecone_ where the last raid on Azog had been staged. Bilbo hoped fervently that nobody would allow Durinsson to be active in the field - surely such a familiar setting would only play havoc with his mind. When the car with Bilbo and Smaug pulled into the small alleyway that served as a momentary parking lot for the nightclub, Bilbo was unable to spot anything out of the ordinary outside. He knew that Daisy, Azog's bodyguard and chief of security, had been tasked with securing the perimeter, supported in her task by Smaug's own men. Bilbo could only hope that this meant that the SWAT team was as good as he thought they were - or that they would only arrive once the meeting was underway.

Another car was already parked next to theirs, showing Bilbo that Azog must have arrived already. He and Smaug were shown the way inside, Bilbo walking slightly behind the man he had been supposedly working for during the past decade. In a way, it had been almost pure luck that Smaug and Azog would meet outside Smaug's mansion this night; apparently Azog had requested this place as a meeting point to show his boss some plans that had been in the making for a while.

It was after about fifteen minutes that they heard the first signs that things were not going as planned. There were sounds coming from the outside, shouts and then the banging of gunshots that was already uncomfortably loud in the empty hallways of the abandoned floors. Daisy frowned and retreated to a far corner of the room where she hastily began talking into her earpiece, her face a mask of concentration and anger. She returned to Azog after a moment, whispering into his ear. Azog's face darkened at her words, nodding slightly in Smaug's direction in apology.

"It seems like there have been some...disturbances outside." he grated out. "The SWAT Team is here. I propose we reschedule this meeting and-"

He never managed to finish whatever it was that he had wanted to say. There was a loud crash, much closer this time, followed by shouts of "Hands up! Get down!" and within moments Daisy had jumped before her employer with a gun in hand to protect him. Despite his job, Bilbo had never really liked carrying weapons - his was a profession of stealth and of the mind, not a one that would require him to go into the offensive. Besides, Smaug would have never approved of his personal assistant carrying weapons.

Smaug was already halfway out of the room whilst Bilbo was still standing frozen in his spot, looking at the black figures spilling in from the other side of the room. There were multiple exits and entrance into the large room although Bilbo didn't doubt that the SWAT Team would have the vast majority of them covered. Azog cursed loudly, pulling out his own weapon as soon as the first gunshots rang out when Daisy began firing. The noise was deafening and Bilbo thought his eardrums would burst, panic pushing his heartbeat into his mouth and making his throat go dry. The shots came in short bursts, everyone in the room in constant motion as they were both taking cover, moving towards the exits and reloading. For a brief moment Bilbo debated with himself whether he should simply raise his hands and act as if he were giving himself up - the police officers were hopefully briefed and had his description and wouldn't shoot at him. After a short moment of hesitation in which he took cover behind one of the heavy stonen columns in the room he decided against it - he would just as likely get a bullet in the back of his head by Smaug's own hands who'd rather have him dead than in the police's hands.

Someone shouted something close to his ears but Bilbo still couldn't make out anything amongst the noise. The elbow of one of Azog's men hit him and he saw Daisy gesticulating for him to follow her. There was another shout and she turned around, shortly before a large shadow slammed into her and barreled her to the ground. Azog was currently reloading his gun, lips curled into a snarl as he looked around to see where Smaug was. He shouted something and made a gesture, Bilbo following his gaze as he saw two of Smaug's men clearing away a set of heavy boxes and revealing a heavy-looking iron door behind. He opened it and gestured for some of his men to go through, giving different orders to some of the others who nodded grimly at him. Bilbo frowned, but just like Azog he recognized far too late what was going on, that Smaug was pushing them in front of the bus to save himself. He was about to shout for help, for someone to do _something_ about it when the men that Smaug had left behind opened fire at everyone left in the room, covering their boss' retreat.

*

Thorin only noticed that his hands were clenched into fists when his fingernails were digging so deeply into his skin that he they almost drew blood. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, to get his mind into the same state it had been in before operations when he had still been part of the active unit. He tried to chase away the images in his mind of what could happen - Dwalin and his friends dead, Azog escaped, Smaug after his sister and the rest of his family, the blood, the pain, the closeness of space-

Slamming one his hand on his knee he forced himself to concentrate on the plans they had managed to acquire of the building in question although it wasn't guaranteed that they were completely up to date. He knew that Thranduil was listening in on everything that would be going on, the operation far too important for him to concentrate on any other work.

"Team Alpha, Team Bravo, all ready?" he asked, waiting for Dwalin and Dáin to answer him as the respective team leaders.

"Ready." the answer came almost in unison from both of them. If there was any nervousness inside them Thorin couldn't hear it in their voices. They sounded calm and collected, as if they were exactly in the right state of mind that they needed to be out there. Thorin wished he could be at their side, now more than ever.

They had gone through the details of the plan many times before on the morning, so there was no need to go over it now - Thorin knew every single one of the unit members, some of them he had trained himself in the previous years and he was sure he could trust them all to know what they were doing. The hardest task would be to keep all the exits covered and preventing Azog and Smaug from breaking through. Nobody doubted that they wouldn't surrender willingly, although Thranduil had given strict orders to keep them alive and arrest them if at all possible. Thorin was strangely glad he wouldn't have to look Azog in the eyes again and could only hope that Dwalin would be alright when facing his previous captors once more.

Thorin checked the time that had passed since it had been reported to him that Azog and Smaug had arrived. They had carefully waited until the meeting was in progress before advancing on the building. According to Bilbo Baggins there would be a lot to discuss and so the meeting would take a while. Now that everyone was in position, it was time for them to begin.

"Go." he gave the command. For a while there were no sounds in his ear, apart from when Dwalin or Dáin quietly gave commands and the occasional crash when a door was being broken down. The first little scuffle ensued on Dwalin's side as they overwhelmed the first pair of guards. Thorin could feel his heartbeat in his throat, but forced himself with all his strength to remain calm, paying Balin a lot of respect in hindsight. It was no small feat to have to remain behind in one of the vans and be unable to do anything other than give commands. Dwalin reported back to him immediately in a calm voice when the noises subsided.

"Two captured, alive. Team's alright. Jonsson and Milberry will bring them back."

"Roger." Thorin confirmed. "Advance with the rest."

The updates kept trickling in and the teams overwhelmed four more of Smaug's guards before Dáin's voice crackled through the connection again.

"We're close to the main set of rooms now." he reported. Thorin nodded to himself, confirmed he had heard the answer and relayed the info to Dwalin, telling Dáin to wait until both teams were in position. Then he told them to advance.

It didn't take long for the sounds of gunshots to come through the com, making any voices hard to understand. Thorin's knuckles were white as he clenched the table in front of him, wishing he were there inside with his partner and his officers. Dwalin tried to relay what was happening, but his voice was hard to understand and he needed all his concentration for what was going on in front of him.

"Smaug and Azog are here." A short interruption, followed by Dwalin cursing. "Baggins, too. And Daisy." The last word was ground out in a particular shade of anger. Thorin was close to telling him not to lose his cool, but of course Dwalin knew that already. He had far too much experience in his job to let his feelings rule him in such an important moment.

For a while, Thorin heard nothing else apart from the obvious sounds of a fight and the short updates over the com until Dwalin snarled something unintelligible. Shortly after, he could hear Dáin curse loudly.

"Smaug's escaping. He's leaving Azog behind. A hidden steel door, impossible to re-open without heavy equipment, to the right of the northern wall. They're shooting at Baggins and their own people to make them stay behind."

A few choice words escaped Thorin, especially when he didn't get a response from Dwalin when he tried to verify Dáin's report. The door Dáin had mentioned wasn't to be found on the plans Thorin had and he guessed that the plans were either too old or hadn't been known to the maker of the plans in the first place. He contacted Tauriel who was leading their reserve team.

"Secure exists three, four and five. Smaug is escaping." he told her, waiting for confirmation.

Suddenly, a loud shout came through Dwalin's channel and Thorin flinched as he heard the note of fear in his voice.

"Team Alpha, what's happening?"

He never received an answer, only the sound of a loud bang blocking out all communication for a moment and then silence.

*

Smaug and Azog clearly seemed to have a pattern when it came to abandoned buildings as meeting places, Dwalin thought dryly. He hated those vast empty houses - there were dozens of rooms, numerous architectural changes throughout the years and therefore endless possibilities for someone to escape. They had tried to cover all the known exits as well as they could, but there was always an element of surprise in any of their operations and Dwalin had the bad feeling that it was bigger in this case than in any before. As long as it didn't turn out to be as bad the _Pinecone_...

Dwalin tried not to allow himself to think of Thorin alone in the van too much, attempting to keep all worry out of his voice whenever he was talking to him. Balin had once told him that it was a strange kind of both power and powerlessness that he experienced when taking care of communications - and the need to always appear in control and not letting anything that happened affect him or his ability to give commands and think clearly.

That Smaug, Azog and their companions would not give up without resistance was something that all of them had been expecting and so it came as no surprise when they opened fire on them. Dwalin's lips curled in a silent snarl as he spotted Daisy, her face a mask of professionalism as she both made sure that her boss had taken cover and that her own aim was true. Bilbo looked slightly forlorn and Dwalin hoped nobody would accidentally shoot him or that he would get hit by a ricocheting bullet. For now they were all too far away to be able to reach him and get him to safety.

Even though it could barely have been longer than a minute or two the first exchanges of gunfire seemed to take hours. Adrenaline running through all fibers of his body, Dwalin's senses were heightened and he registered every single movement in the large room, from Daisy's precisely calculated motions via Azog's pure rage to Smaug's obvious attempts to retreat towards a certain corner of the room, his movement covered by gunfire from his goons. A hidden door? It would be just like Smaug to have an exit planted that no one knew about.

They gained ground, slowly but surely, using the columns of the room for cover. Dwalin's team members moved in perfect unison, only needing little in terms of hand signaled communication. He was close to Daisy's position now, hoping they would be able to arrest her together with all the others. Suddenly a shout went through the hall, strangely muted amongst the noise of the weapons and Daisy's head whipped around. Dwalin used that moment to throw himself at her with a snarl, knowing that non-fatally shooting her might not deter her in what she was doing. Daisy's eyes widened when their gazes crossed and she recognized him and with an expression of rage she twisted in his grip, suddenly lithe like a cat. Both of them remembered well how their last encounter had played out.

Dwalin was heavier but she was just as well-muscled as him and it wasn't easy for him to subdue her. With a little shout she suddenly slammed her head upwards, slightly to the side so that she wouldn't hit his helmet but his nose and cheek instead and Dwalin instinctively tried to evade the blow. The moment of inattention was all she needed and she managed to rip one of her hands free and out of his grip, using it to deliver a straight blow to his throat that left him breathless for a moment. He could hear Thorin's voice through the com but was unable to answer as Daisy tried to throttle him with one hand. He kneed her in the stomach, trying to get up and some ground under his feet when she gasped, but unable to break her grip around his throat.

He could hear the sound of bullets hitting the ground close to him, a spray of concrete splitters hitting his helmet and one or two of them grazing his forehead. A few of them hit Daisy's face and shoulder although none of them badly enough to truly hurt her - the blood running down her cheek only seemed to make her angrier. His air was beginning to run out from the firmness of Daisy's grip and he made a grab for the knife in his belt when Daisy suddenly twisted in her position and tried to flip them around. From the edge of his eyes Dwalin could see the boots of some of his colleagues close by. Daisy had noticed the same for she managed to wedge free her other hand and close it around his throat as well, clearly intent on strangling him with her bare hands. With the strength and experience she possessed there was a real chance that she would.

Dwalin blinked to try and get the blood from his eyes that ran down from the wounds on his forehead. He desperately tried to get his knees in the right position so he could use them to lash out against her again, although he found his strength slowly failing as he was labouring to get take a breath. He closed his hands around her wrists but was unable to break her grip. The scar on his forehead seemed to itch again as he tried to press his thumbs in her eyes but she ducked away. Daisy's gaze flickered to the side for a moment and Dwalin followed it, relief spreading through him when he saw that his team members had somehow managed to close in, ready to overwhelm Daisy. There was still the sound of gunshots further away in the room, although it was slowly lessening in intensity.

Daisy had evidently noticed the same and chose to change her tactic - with one last squeeze and a kick to Dwalin's chest that was luckily at least partly bolstered by the body armor he was wearing she rolled over backwards and out of his reach. He was still struggling for breath when he saw her reach into one of the pockets of the functional trousers she was wearing. His eyes widened when he recognized what she was holding and ready to throw in the direction of his team mates.

"Out! Everyone! Get out!" He forced the shout through his mangled wind pipe but of course it was much too late.

Daisy threw what she was holding, immediately scrabbling away and trying to take cover. Dwalin tried to follow her and at the same time curled up to protect himself, but he had enough time to look into his team mate's terrified eyes and before the grenade exploded and a wave of noise, heat and pure force swept through the room, slamming him against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally planned to go a bit further in this chapter and finishing writing the assault. But then I reached my usual 3k and I thought 'why not make everyone hate me and end it here! With an impossibly mean cliffhanger!' I also think I am developing a thing for blowing up things/people in this fic for some reason. Uhm. *very slowly inches out of the room and hides away*


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's mop up everything that happened at the end of the last chapter. This one sorta got away from me and went kinda differently than I had planned, but it was nonetheless fun to write and I think in the end it works out.

Thorin's eyes were wide and his hands kept shaking, no matter how much he tried to control it. He could hear nothing through the communication channels after the noise of what had presumably been an explosion, only the occasional faint crashing sound as parts of the room came down. It was hard to bring his voice under control and harder still to adhere to the necessary formalities and not keep shouting Dwalin's name into the microphone in front of him.

He heard Tauriel's worried voice reporting from outside that Smaug seemed to have escaped their grasp despite the tight security, but the terror and crushing guilt inside him were too strong to pay more than a moment's attention to her words. He would deal with their implications later - for now he had to know what was happening inside the building. He sent Tauriel inside, hoping that she wouldn't find what he feared - that the explosion had taken out the room's ceiling and buried everyone that had been inside underneath, friend and foe alike. Somehow he almost felt as if it had been his own hand that had triggered it. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he barely heard the cough and rough voice through the com at first.

"Team Alpha, is that you?" he asked when he thought he recognised Dwalin's voice, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"Yes." More coughing and a quiet groan followed, but at least it didn't sound like Dwalin was in much pain.

"Give me your status, Team Alpha." Thorin said, using all his willpower to make his voice tremble only slightly. The surge of relief that at least Dwalin was still alive left him almost light-headed.

"One moment." There was another groan and Thorin surmised that was probably just getting up. Then his voice rang through the com again. "Daisy triggered an explosion. Small grenade, I believe."

A soft curse followed as Dwalin was taking in the situation around him.

"Daisy escaped. Several of our people are down, we'll need EMTs, and urgently. Dáin..." There was another curse, this time more loudly. "...is severely wounded. I have visual on Azog, however. He and two of his men were knocked out. Baggins is still here, too, he seems mostly unharmed if still in shock."

Thorin swore quietly with a few choice words before dispatching their team of EMTs that had been on standby. He could only hope that Dáin wasn't too badly wounded, but from the tightness in Dwalin's voice he had the sinking feeling that his hopes might be for naught.

"Understood. EMTs are on the way. Secure the prisoners and wait for further instructions." he told Dwalin, before relaying all necessary information to Thranduil. His chief sounded furious and frustrated at the other end of the line, although at least he wasn't directing his fury at Thorin or the units under his supervision. That Smaug had managed to escape promised some serious ramifications and slowly it began to sink into Thorin's mind just what it would mean for the safety of his loved ones and the rest of his unit. The satisfaction that they had at least managed to catch Azog was rather slim in light of everything else that had happened.

He relayed Thranduil's orders to take in Azog and his two henchmen with the highest security. There was grim satisfaction in Dwalin's voice when he confirmed the commands and Thorin hoped that he would be able to rein in his temper when dealing with Azog. Having him on this mission had technically already been stretching the legal limits, seeing that he had personal connections with at least one of their suspects in question. But they had needed good men for this operation and Dwalin was one of the best, that much even Thranduil had to admit.

The rest of the operation seemed to pass almost too fast. A flurry of activity ensued when it was clear that there would be no more active fighting and that the perimeter was secured, even though both Smaug, part of his retinue and Daisy had managed to flee. Thorin only reunited with the rest of the unit when the time for the debriefing came. Everyone on their teams looked tired and worried and as if they wanted to do nothing else but go home.

For a moment Thorin wished nothing more than to give Dwalin a tight embrace, just to reassure himself that they were both alright, but of course he didn't. The atmosphere was far too public for him to feel comfortable to do so and so they left it at a quick brushing of arms and fingers as they walked into the small room that they traditionally used for their debriefings. Thranduil began the debrief by summarizing everything that had happened and was known at this stage.

"This operation's success was only partial, I am afraid." he began and Thorin was able to see the tired shadows under his eyes as well. "Smaug made an escape as has Azog's bodyguard and main security officer. All the relevant agencies have been informed and are on high alert, but it is unlikely they will be caught soon. Everybody who was friends and family that could directly be affected by Smaug's actions should take additional care and warn them."

Murmurs were running through the room at that and Thorin felt the sweat on his palms. He didn't want to know what Dís would say if he told her that she would have to leave the city for a while because the danger was simply too great. But tell her he must, and very soon. It was a race against time.

"Amongst our own units, we had a large number of light injuries due to the explosion in a contained space. Three of our people are still in hospital. Two are expected to hopefully make a full recovery whilst Ironfoot will unfortunately be permanently out of active duty. The explosion cost him at least one leg and the doctors are currently still trying to save the other."

There was a pause in his speech as Thranduil's voice hardened. Thorin felt coldness spread through him like ice and the waves of guilt washing over his head threatened to drown him for a moment. He didn't even notice his fingers clenching the fabric of his trousers until Dwalin's arm brushed his elbow and he made a conscious effort to relax them.

"He'll be insufferable when he's back." Dwalin murmured quietly. "Now that his surname matches so well." It was a bad joke, but Thorin kept holding on to his words, hoping that they would prove true. He could hear the shock of many on the room who hadn't been on the scene when the explosion had happened and wondered dimly if it had been similar when he had been the one in hospital back then.

Thranduil didn't lose any words about Bilbo Baggins - despite having given up his cover, the existence of Gandalf's former undercover agent was still a rather well kept secret, mostly for Baggins' own safety. Thorin wondered if he had survived unscathed or not but he guessed he would find out soon.

"Azog himself and two of his people were taken into custody and are currently being held under high security. We have enough evidence to hold them for a while, although investigations will continue and there is a slight hope that he will give out Smaug's whereabouts."

Thorin just shook his head at Thranduil's words - even if Smaug had sold out Azog and used him as a pawn to secure his own getaway, he strongly doubted that Azog could be convinced to give up any information on him. Thranduil's eyes hardened as his gaze travelled over the assembled people in front of him, resting on Dwalin and Thorin for some time before going on. He seemed to be speaking mainly to them with his next words.

"I know that more than one person in this room has had rather personal encounters and feelings about our new prisoner. I will not, under _any_ circumstances, permit any action outside those allowed by protocol. _None_. Is that understood?"

Only when everyone nodded and murmured 'yes sir' did Thranduil relax slightly.

"Good. We will analyze everything that happened today over the next days and hold a second, more detailed debriefing in the near future." In a rare show of solidarity he added: "Thank you everyone for the work you did today. Now go and get some rest, we will have to stage street patrols of increased frequency and density in the coming days."

A slight sigh went through the room, everyone knowing that it would mean increased hours likely without any overtime compensation since they were already scratching at the limits of their overtime allowance anyway. However, what had to be done had to be done, so they would continue trying to keep the streets safe the best way they could. There was slight murmuring in the room as chairs were being pushed and everyone discussed what they had just heard. Dwalin and Thorin lagged behind a little, both of them looking silent and feeling just how tired they actually were from the previous days. It was the first moment they had for themselves since the previous day when they had stepped into Thranduil's office to hear the news that Baggins had been able to obtain.

"Are you going to call Dís?" Dwalin asked him and Thorin nodded, tiredly running a hand through his hair. Dwalin looked almost stricken for a moment and there was no need for both of them to say out loud what was in his head - that Dwalin had nobody close to him left to warn apart from the friends he had made with Thorin's family.

"If Smaug hurts them..." Something dark and ugly made its way into Thorin's voice and for a moment he felt anger burning inside him when he thought of Smaug harming anyone else in his family, the roaring desire to crush everything that threatened them and his partner. Dwalin put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a little smile.

"He won't." he said firmly. "Not if we act quickly enough. And we have Azog, there is still a glimmer of hope he might sell out Smaug just because he abandoned him."

Thorin shook his head.

"No he won't." he said, bone deep conviction lining the edge of his voice. "He might hate Smaug for what he's done, but he hates us more. He won't betray him."

"Alright." Dwalin sighed. "But nonetheless, Dís should be safe with your parents for a while at least."

Thorin nodded, feeling once again just how tired he was. It was an exhaustion that seemed to go deeper than just simple tiredness. It sat inside his bones, making every move harder than it should be and leaving little energy for most tasks. He wished desperately they could simply go on a break. Thorin could feel Dwalin's gaze resting on him and noted the slight concern in his eyes as he looked up.

"And how are you doing?" Thorin asked him. "Were you harmed during the explosion?"

Dwalin shook his head but didn't resist when Thorin raised his hand and lightly traced the bloody scratches on his forehead from the fight with Daisy that a medic had patched up quickly beforehand.

"Nothing serious." he told his partner. "My gear took the worst of it and I was close to Daisy, so far enough away not to have been seriously injured."

The ghost of a smile played around Thorin's lips, as he pulled him closer, not so much for a kiss but simply to feel his warmth.

"Would you tell me if there was anything more serious?" he murmured, looking up to meet Dwalin's gaze. Despite their newly found intimacy he would still never be sure of anything anymore and thought that maybe, Dwalin would simply not want to worry him. Dwalin brought up his hand and rubbed his thumb over the scruff of Thorin's beard.

"I would." he replied. "Because I trust you. And because you deserve honesty."

Thorin felt the breath hitching in his throat, thinking of all the times where he had lied to Dwalin, sometimes even unintentionally and renewed his quiet oath to never do it again. He thought that maybe, part of him had simply been afraid of losing Dwalin like he had lost so many others before. He thought that there was no way his partner could still love him as completely as he did when knowing about all his faults and mistakes, no way that someone like him could deserve someone like Dwalin.

"Thank you." he whispered quietly.

"And you? Would you do the same?" Dwalin finally asked him. Thorin swallowed. Of course it was Dwalin's right to know whether he could expect the same degree of trust he had just given Thorin. And Dwalin deserved nothing if not honesty from him now.

"I would now, I think, yes." he said, although he couldn't quite hide the short moment of hesitation in his voice. Dwalin had heard it and he could see so by the slight frown in his forehead. With a little smile Thorin reached over and smoothed it out. "I used to think that it was better for us if you didn't know some things. But now..."

He let the sentence trail off, unsure of how to go on. Dwalin waited patiently until he had found his voice again to put the thoughts in his head into words.

"I'm sorry." he apologized, helplessly. "But I promise I'll try to always be honest with you from now on."

Dwalin smiled, the expression wrinkling the skin at the corner of his eyes and making them sparkle.

"That's all I could have asked for." he murmured gently and pulled Thorin close for a kiss after he had reassured himself that the door to them room was closed and they were truly alone. For a few moments Thorin let go of the knot of feelings inside his chest, guilt, shame and anger all mixed into one. There was nothing else but the feeling of Dwalin's lips on his, not demanding or hungry this time, but full of gentle reassurance instead. Thorin drank it all in, taking the moment and using it to lace the edge of his mind so they could withstand the waves that would come crashing over them very soon.

They parted only reluctantly, but the sense of urgency inside Thorin finally won. He took out his phone and dialed Dís' number with a little sigh, trying to steel himself for what was to come. Without asking, Dwalin remained and stayed next to him, their arms brushing as he tried to give him strength for what he had to do.

Dís picked up her phone relatively quickly, still at work from the stressed sound of her voice and the lack of the typical noise of her home in the background.

"Thorin? Everything alright?" Her phone must have told her it was him and she knew her brother would never call her out of the blue in the middle of the day if it weren't truly important.

"Yes. No." Thorin hesitated for a moment. He had never told her about the operation that had happened today and now he rather regretted the decision, since it would have made many things a lot easier for him. He took a deep breath before he forged on.

"We had an operation earlier today to arrest both Azog and Smaug. It...didn't quite go as planned."

He could hear Dís taking a shaky breath on the other end of the line.

"What happened? Are you and Dwalin alright?" The urgency in her voice made Thorin's heart ache and reminded him that he and Dwalin weren't the only ones who had lost so much to Azog and Smaug already.

"We're fine, yeah." Thorin calmed her down. "But Smaug escaped."

There was no sound and he forged on, knowing that Dís had already grasped the implications of what he had just said.

"You should take Fíli and Kíli on a holiday up to our parents' place. Thranduil has offered full protection for our family but it would be easier if you were all up there together for the time being."

"Are you telling me to flee? That Smaug would kill the rest of us, too?" Dís' voice held little fear, but all the more anger. Thorin knew that his sister seldomly lost her temper, but when she did the outcome was terrifying. He was suddenly rather glad she hadn't decided to go on to a career in law enforcement like her oldest brother.

"Yes." Thorin swallowed. "I'm sorry, Dís. I know it's all my fault. I should have-"

"Shut _up_." Dís' voice was quivering and Thorin knew she had her hand clenched around her phone. "Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. We'll have enough time to talk about it later. What is important now is our family. I will _not_ lose you to them too. Neither you nor Dwalin. Do you understand that, Thorin? Do _not_ get yourselves killed. Promise me that."

Whatever Thorin had expected, it wasn't this. He knew his sister always suppressed her own worries and fear by caring about others, but he had thought she would be much angrier with him. He gave her a tiny smile, only then remembering that she couldn't see it.

"We will do everything we can." he offered her earnestly, knowing well that he couldn't swear to her that they would all survive, especially not when the stakes were so high. "I promise."

Dís sighed, but surprisingly she didn't reprimand him any further.

"How do you think I can just leave though, Thorin?" she demanded to know instead. "What of Fíli's and Kíli's school? What of my job? I have classes to teach, students to supervise, my research to do..."

"Thranduil will take care of that and talk to the school and your employer." Thorin told her, although he understood her worries well. "And could you try and get some work dome on your laptop at home?"

"You have no idea about the kind of programs you need to run when you're doing engineering, do you." Despite everything, Dís sounded mildly amused. Before Thorin could answer, she continued. "But yes, I'll try and take them up tonight. I demand that you give me regular updates on everything that's happening though."

"I promise." Thorin nodded. This one, at least, was easy to keep.

"Good." Dís sounded very tired all of a sudden. "I'll call you again once we're with Ma and Da. At least _they_ are going to be delighted to see us there."

She hung up without a further word and for a moment Thorin just stood there with his phone in hand, wishing fervently that everything would be alright and end well for all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had the note "Dain loses a leg somewhere along the way" written at the side of my storyline for basically 20 chapters. Time to finally get there xD.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO WRITING THIS CHAPTER EVER SINCE I STARTED THIS STORY. Why oh why do I enjoy writing ruthless villains so much...

"Durinsson, I need you in my office, now."

Thorin looked up from the papers he was working on and into Thranduil's face. His chief was standing in front of him, looking rather unhappy and for a moment Thorin asked himself what he'd done wrong and if Thranduil was angry with him, but then the captain of the MOP _always_ looked as if someone had just poured water instead of milk over his breakfast cereal.

"Sure." he replied, but made a point of finishing the one form he was filling in before getting up and following Thranduil into his office. To his surprise he saw both Gandalf and Bilbo Baggins awaiting him in there. Thorin frowned but waited for them to explain what was going on.

After the usual greeting he sat down at the chair that had been left vacant for him and turned to Thranduil, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"We have been interrogating Azog for the past two days, but there has been no progress." Thranduil said, straight to the point. Thorin nodded and waited for him to go on - the announcement was hardly news for him since he had expected no less, although everything concerning Azog and Smaug had been kept carefully under wraps by all police departments involved.

"None of the information I recovered at Smaug's has been able to help." Baggins added. He still looked slightly pale and there were barely healed scratches on his face and arms from the explosion but otherwise he still seemed remarkably in control, almost relieved even that the charade was finally over. It was the look from his eyes that gave Thorin the final clue.

"You want _me_ to interrogate him." he said. It wasn't even a question.

Thranduil and Gandalf exchanged a gaze before they answered.

"Yes." Gandalf said. "You have the most...personal history with him so we believe your presence might get him to say things he otherwise wouldn't."

Thorin sighed, but resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He would not appear weak in front of anybody in this room.

"It won't be easy." Thranduil said. "And of course we'll give you additional training for the situation beforehand and have officers on standby outside the room. The decision is up to you. But we firmly believe that we might be able to crack him with your help."

He didn't say _'if we utilize you the right way'_ but Thorin heard it anyway. His mind was swirling and it was hard for him to catch a clear thought on the subject. Of course he wanted to help, especially with bringing down Smaug as well who, predictably, he hadn't been caught by any of the multiple traffic controls yet. However, he also knew just how good Azog was at manipulating and the thought of having to face him once more, even in a controlled situation, made shivers run down his spine. For a moment he wished that Dwalin were here to help him with the decision, but of course his partner was out on patrol at the moment and would thus be of little help.

“How much time do I have to decide?” Thorin wanted to know. Again the others exchanged glances amongst them before they replied.

“As quickly as possible.” Gandalf told him. “We have little time to lose; Smaug could be taking the first steps to carrying out further acts of intimidation and revenge against us even now. We _will_ have to act, sooner or later.”

Thorin nodded, wishing desperately for just a moment of silence and retreat where he could collect his thoughts and think about everything. Whatever they wanted, this time he would _not_ make the decision without talking at least to Dwalin first and that meant waiting until his partner was back from patrol, in another two hours.

“I’ll let you know by this evening.” he promised them and there was something in his tone that immediately made them realize that he would not be swayed in his opinion. Thranduil didn’t look happy, but still gave him leave to go which was good enough for Thorin. He returned to his desk to keep on working through his mountain of paperwork although of course his mind kept pondering the question at hand.

Dwalin immediately sensed that something was wrong when he returned. Freshly out of his uniform and still disheveled and sweaty he got straight to the point after squeezing Thorin’s shoulder in a quiet greeting.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. Thorin just nodded towards the now empty meeting room and after getting a cup of coffee for each of them they retreated to where nobody would be able to listen in on their conversation. Thorin told his partner everything he needed to know in brief and concise words, waiting to hear Dwalin’s opinion before saying anything more. Dwalin took a deep breath, obviously thinking about the matter.

“Have you already come to a decision?” he wanted to know.

Thorin shrugged and nodded at the same time.

“I’m still not sure. I feel it should be my duty to help wherever I can, especially when I think of all those in danger. Dís…” his voice faltered for a moment when he thought of his sister and his two nephews. “I want to do everything I can for them. But at the same time I’m convinced Azog would never spill anything; especially not to me.”

Dwalin nodded, not mentioning what they both knew – that Thorin was also afraid to face the man again who had brought him and his family so much pain, even though he would never let that fear overrule him and use fury to override it and fuel him instead.

“It’s your decision, in the end.” Dwalin admitted. “But thanks for sharing it with me. _If_ you decide to do it, however, insist that you can jump out at any given time. Don’t stay in there for a moment longer than you have to. Don’t let Azog get into your head.”

“I won’t.” Thorin smiled weakly. He thought about it again – about Azog, but also about those he had already lost and then about his sister who was with their parents at the moment, tired and angry and afraid. The thought of anything happening to her and his nephews…it was almost too much to bear. If there was any, even the smallest chance of him being able to help to keep them safe, he’d make use of it. Dwalin must’ve seen in his eyes that he had reached a decision, for he simply stepped forwards and put one of his hands on Thorin’s shoulder.

“You’re going to do it, aren’t you.” It wasn’t even a question anymore. Thorin simply nodded. Dwalin managed a crooked smile in response.

“Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.” He told him, bending forwards to press their foreheads together. Thorin leaned forwards until their lips met for a quick kiss.

“I will. This time, I will.” he promised his partner and for once he had no intention of breaking it. Then he returned to Thranduil’s office to let his chief know about his decision.

*

The room was well lit, its walls bare and only the minimum of furniture inside – a table, three chairs, audio and video recording equipment and not much else. Azog was sitting on one of the chairs, hands still cuffed together and connected to the table, but looking as if this was his office rather than an interrogation room. Thorin shuddered slightly, knowing well that Azog had no way of knowing that it was him behind the one way mirror at the one wall but he still felt as if the glance from his enemy’s icy eyes was drilling into his own. The day of preparation hadn’t been for nothing – after yesterday’s decision several experts had wasted no time in training him in everything they knew and that would be useful both to help him keep a cool head and get what they wanted out of Azog.

“Are you ready to go in?”

Thorin turned his head to look at the man who had asked the question and who had introduced himself as Elrond to him earlier that day. He and his assistant Lindir had been Thorin’s main trainers for interrogation techniques and would of course be present to watch from behind the mirror throughout the entire interview. Dwalin was probably on his way to the station for his late shift this night by now and would be hard to reach should anything go wrong.

Thorin swallowed and took a deep breath before nodding at the assembled police officers and stepping out of the observation room onto the hallway and then into the interrogation room, some papers in one hand and a cup of already cold coffee in his other that was a twin to Azog’s own on the table.

“Durinsson. Finally. I was waiting for you.” Azog’s smile was all teeth and Thorin forced himself to maintain his steely outside demeanor.

“Azog.” Thorin acknowledged his presence with a little nod of his head before he sat down at the other end of the table. He wondered vaguely whether Azog knew about what had happened to the others, that Daisy had escaped and that at least one of the SWAT officers has been severely wounded – or that Bilbo Baggins had been a traitor. He had been told nothing about the fate of any of his men by those who had interrogated him beforehand, nor had the SWAT team been mentioned again, that much Thorin knew from the protocols he’d read. The thought of Dáin made Thorin clench his hands – his friend was still in an artificial coma, although the doctors had at least been able to save one leg. The rage that flowed through him at the thought must have shown in his eyes, for Azog’s smiled widened just a little.

“So have they finally convinced you to come and try to get anything out of me?” Azog’s voice was never loud and yet it felt like it encompassed the entire room. Thorin suddenly had some understanding of how this man had managed to rise to far so fast under Smaug. “I’m looking forward to it. Show me your best.”

Azog leaned back in his little chair as if he weren’t in prison, but sitting comfortably on his sofa at home, in total control of everything that was happening.

“I’ve heard they’re searching your house right now.” Thorin told him, acting as if he hadn’t noticed Azog’s last words. “You could make life a lot easier for all of us if you could tell us what they’d find.”

“And why should I do that?” The smile was still on Azog’s face, although his eyes remained cold like a frozen lake in deep winter. “It doesn’t matter to me in the slightest.”

“Doesn’t it?” Thorin leaned forward slightly, not flinching back when his gaze met Azog’s. “Do you really believe they won’t turn over everything they find? That they will drag every single bit of your life into the light? I’m sure their scrutiny might be lessened if you provided them with some help.”

“And why should I care?” Azog made a movement as if to spread his hands, stopping when he remembered the handcuffs that were preventing him from doing so. “It makes no difference to me.”

Thorin kept himself from sighing; talking to Azog was like talking against a wall in a cave, with everything getting thrown back devoid of its meaning. Suddenly Azog leaned forwards as well, a cold spark in his eyes as he began to talk again.

“How’s your sister doing, by the way? And those two lovely nephews of yours?”

It took all of Thorin’s restraint to remain quiet although he felt he would rip the paper in his hands in two any second. When Azog saw that Thorin wasn’t going to answer to his veiled threat, Azog shook his head.

“Ah no, Durinsson, that’s now how it’s going to work.” he said, his voice almost dangerously soft. “You see, you give me something of yours and I’ll give you something of mine. Show me your rage. Show me how much you _care_. And maybe I’ll let you know who the sniper is that Smaug is planning to send after your family, if he hasn’t already.”

Thorin could almost see the frantic activity that was ensuing behind the one way mirror as Azog spoke the last sentence. A distant part of him knew that it might not even be true, that Azog was lying in order to get him to lose control so he would be once more suspended from his job. However, there was still white hot rage and fear filling his mind, his emotions bypassing any voice of reason. A spark lit inside Azog’s eyes as he could see the almost visible struggle inside Thorin.

“And what makes _you_ think that such a threat could sway me? My family is well protected, a lot better than _your_ life and belongings right now, I’d wager.” Thorin finally shot back. He knew he was far too close to getting too personal, something that Elrond and Lindir had warned him against, but he was almost past the point of caring by now.

“Liar.” The word was simple, but Azog said it with such easy conviction as if he were stating the weather outside. “I still remember the smell of your blood on my hands, Durinsson. And your pathetic expression of fear. I wonder what you’ll look like when they are all dead? Your family, Dwalin…”

Thorin took a deep breath, using every single technique he’d ever learned to calm himself. _Stay calm. Keep the upper hand._ he told himself.

“Threats will get your nowhere, Azog.” he stated. “You will go to prison for the rest of your life; but it can be a good one or a bad one, depending on the information about Smaug you are willing to give us.”

Azog laughed.

“I think you and I have very different ideas about my future, Durinsson.” There was an actual amused undertone in this voice that almost threw Thorin off guard, even more so than the previous sentences that he had almost planned on hearing before he came. Did Azog already have an escape planned? If so, then how and when? No visitors had been allowed and everyone who’d had contact with him had been subject to strict controls to guarantee all of their safety, including Azog’s. There was more than one member in the force who had lost loved ones to him and Thorin was sure he wasn’t the only one whose dreams had been filled with violent revenge more than once.

“Do we indeed?” he raised his brows. “Then how do you see it playing out?” It was unlikely that such a direct question would goad Azog into giving an answer, but he had to try.

“Differently.” Azog’s smile was so noncommittal that he could have been a salesman. “And you? What do you see?”

“Not you.” The answer was an impulsive one and Thorin knew it, but he also knew that it was the right one. He didn’t even mean Azog’s physical presence so much as the shadow he had left in his and Dwalin’s minds and the scars on their bodies. To be free of the trauma and darkness that hid there was a hope that Thorin had almost given up on already. Azog raised his hands to his chest in mock dismay.

“You hurt me, Durinsson.” He cocked his head slightly to the side before he continued. “You may keep telling yourself that it’s all over and done, but trust me, I won’t leave you alone so easily. I’ll always be there, at the back of your mind, whispering to you that it was all your fault and you should rather be dead.”

Thorin knew that this was the moment where he should have left, should have brought some distance between him and Azog, but he also knew that if he exited the room now without saying something it was as good as if he’d lost to him. He could never let Azog know just how uncomfortably close he had gotten to the reality inside his head.

“You presume much.” he told him. “And yet, look where both of us are at the moment. If all you can do is to threaten and throw profanities my way then I am sorry to tell you, this conversation is over.”

He made a move as if to stand up and exit the room. Some part of him hoped that he would be able to leave, the other wanted Azog to call him back, knowing that he enjoyed taunting Thorin more than anything else.

“So you’ll give all your chances away to know where Smaug is? For your pride?” Azog called after him. “I could tell you everything. Where his safehouse is. Who all his agents and moles in the police are. The traps he has set, his contingency plans, the names of his men and locations of all his accomplices and hideouts. Are you really going to throw them all away?”

Thorin turned around, slowly, and expression of ice on his features.

“Then stop playing games. What do you want?”

“You.” Azog told him plainly. “I get out. You are the only one who holds contact with me. And I’ll tell you all I know and help you bring down Smaug.”

Thorin simply started at him for a few moments before shaking his head.

“No.” He caught a glimpse of Azog’s smirk before he turned around and left the interrogation room, forcing himself to walk slowly so that it wouldn’t seem as if he was fleeing from the scene.

Lindir and Elrond both awaited him outside, almost identical frowns on their face and worry in their eyes. Of course they had heard everything and Thorin was fairly sure that he would receive a lecture from them later about everything he’d done wrong in there, but right now he didn’t care. He raised his hand when Elrond began to open his mouth and shook his head.

“I need a fresh coffee first.” he told him. “Then we can talk.”

They nodded and let him walk away to the next coffee machine. Thorin ignored the slight tremble in his fingers as he waited for his coffee to run through and once he held the cup in his hand, he took a second to warm his icy fingers on it before leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.

What should he do?


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another one! Quite a few plot points happening this chapter although it's a relatively quiet one per se. Also apologies for any eventual typos, my wonderful and bestest of all Betas is currently studying hard for her exams (go to theheirsofdurin on Tumblr and wish her luck, everyone!) :).

"No." Dwalin said flatly, staring at him. "Absolutely not. Dís would tell you the same if she were here."

"I know." Thorin sighed, the frustration apparent in his voice. He raked his fingers through his hair and stared at the small bottle of beer in his hands. For a moment he wished he hadn't told his partner about what had happened today - the moment he had, Dwalin had withdrawn the arm he had put around his shoulder as they sat on the sofa. They'd just gotten comfortable after Dwalin had returned from his late shift. Thorin hadn't gone to bed, unable to sleep and instead waiting for his partner to come home and watching period dramas in the mean time. Now Dwalin had turned towards him, every trace of comfort gone from his body and his eyes serious.

"You're not seriously thinking about taking up what Azog claims is such a generous offer." He sounded incredulous. "Thorin, he's _lying_."

"Of course he is." Thorin almost snarled, thinking for a moment that Dwalin must think him stupid. Dwalin's eyes narrowed and Thorin made a conscious effort to rein in his temper. It wasn't Dwalin's fault that the situation was so frustrating. For a moment he thought about calling his sister so she could participate in the conversation as well but it was late at night and Dís would already long be asleep. Tomorrow.

"But think about it - if he can lead us to Azog, it might be worth it." Thorin continued. "It might be worth _everything_ , even my own life."

This time it was Dwalin who was taking a deep breath as a brief spark of anger flashed in his eyes.

"No, Thorin. It isn't." He seemed like he wanted to say more, but just shook his head after a moment. "The chances that this works are far, far too small. And even if Azog rats out his former boss - what do you think will happen? Smaug is cunning. He didn't make his way to the position he is in now by simple luck and relying on others. He has probably changed everything already because he is counting on Azog ratting him out and none of the info Azog has will actually be helpful to us."

Thorin opened his mouth to give a counter argument almost by reflex, but then the truth of what Dwalin had just said settled into this mind. His partner was right - the most dangerous aspect by far about Smaug was his intelligence and incredible cunning. The moment he knew that Azog had been caught he would have set a number of contingency plans into motion, making most of Azog's info outdated.

"You're right." he finally admitted. "Still, this isn't helping us. We need to know what Smaug is doing and we need to know it fast. If what Azog said is true and he really has a sniper trained on Dís and my nephews..."

"Leave that to the pros in the task force." Dwalin told him. "I know it's not helping and I'd like to be out there doing something as much as you do, but these guys have been doing that sort of work for decades."

Thorin smiled a little; it was unexpected for Dwalin to act as the voice of reason. Normally his partner was often the more temperamental of the two them, but where his judgment sometimes seemed clouded when it came to his own decisions his sight was often remarkably clear when it concerned Thorin or any others in his team.

"I know." he told Dwalin and it was the truth. The rational part of his mind of course knew; it was just the rest of him that was harder to convince. The instinct to protect his family from any wrongs was almost overwhelmingly strong and as Dwalin had said, he was half tempted so simply walk out and do what he could, even if it went against every rule. "Doesn't change that I'd like to personally keep watch over my sister and her sons if I could."

"Anything else wouldn't be like you." Dwalin agreed. "But let's go to bed for now. There is enough time to think about this tomorrow when we're both more awake and your sister can voice her opinion, too. And don't do anything stupid whilst I'm asleep."

"Maybe you should distract me then." Thorin grinned cheekily. He didn't _feel_ cheeky but somehow it felt like the right thing to say. He missed the levity between them at times. A spark of surprise and then mischief lit in Dwalin's eyes as he snaked his arm around Thorin's shoulders again and leaned over to kiss him. Thorin hummed in pleasure when Dwalin's lips slid over his beard and then down his throat.

"Is this the kind of distraction you were thinking of?" Dwalin laughed, never stopping in his gentle ministrations. He needed the diversion from everything that was going on as much as Thorin did.

"Mhmmm." Thorin grumbled happily as he leaned back and closed his eyes, banning everything else from his mind that wasn't Dwalin's touch for the moment. His own fingers soon found purchase on Dwalin's neck and in his beard, drawing a quiet moan from his partner as his nails began scratching him gently at first, and then with more vigor. Neither of them spoke for a long time afterwards apart from each other's names on their lips and quietly whispered reassurances.

Thorin awoke bleary-eyed the next morning as his alarm went off far too early. He stared at it honestly contemplating the use of a hammer on his smartphone. He might have, hadn't getting a hammer required getting up in the first place. Dwalin grumbled something next to him and burrowed more deeply under his blanket, being allowed to sleep in since it was his day off again. Thorin glared at him jealously and bent over to press a little kiss on the small bit of his head that was still looking out under the bedcover. The smell of their lovemaking from the night before was still strong on Dwalin's skin and Thorin smiled a little before he finally heaved himself out of bed with a quiet groan.

As soon as he was out of bed and wearily eyeing the coffee machine as it was making the one beverage without which he found it very hard to function on mornings such as this one all thoughts from the previous night were crashing in over his head again and the remnants of calm that the previous night had brought him vanished completely. He guessed that he could no longer delay the inevitable and with a sigh he grabbed his phone and called his sister. It was early, but he knew that she would likely be awake already. His predictions proved right for she took the call on the second ring already although she sounded rather tired.

"How's your involuntary little retreat going?" Thorin asked her and he heard the ghost of a smile when Dís answered him.

"So far, so good. Of course Ma wanted to know why on earth we were coming to visit them so suddenly. So far I haven't told them, although I think both of them actually suspect something."

"Of course they do." Thorin murmured, tiredly rubbing his forehead. Nonetheless, he was glad that Dís hadn't told them anything yet. They would only get unnecessarily worried or worse, his father would start calling 'old friends' to provide help in the matter which would only lead to chaos.

"Fíli and Kíli are angry that they are sequestered out here and aren't even allowed to go into the city by themselves but at least I had the foresight to bring their Playstation along so right now their controllers have to suffer all their frustrations instead of me."

Thorin laughed quietly, already seeing his parents' disapproving glances that Dís had dared to bring something like a video gaming console along for her sons. It was probably only a question of time until his father got so annoyed that he would pull the plug.

"Could you at least get some work done then?" Thorin asked his sister.

"A little." she admitted. "Not as much as I'd like, but still...better than nothing. And you and Dwalin?"

Thorin took a deep breath before he decided to jump right into it. Delaying giving Dís the news would help nobody, least of all her and so he told her everything about the interrogation with Azog on the previous day, the threats that the man had made and also the offers for compromise. Dís' reply was very similar to Dwalin's the previous night.

"You can't do that, Thorin." she told him. "Not for my sake or Fíli's and Kíli's or even Dwalin's. It would destroy you, no matter the outcome."

"Dwalin said the same."

"Good." Dís sounded satisfied and once more Thorin was reminded that Dwalin had, by now, basically become another part of their family. Dwalin and Dís already behaved like siblings and Fíli and Kíli had begun calling him 'uncle' years ago. He was glad that everything had turned out this way, knowing he could rely on his sister and his partner to be there for each other if there was ever an occasion where he wouldn't be able to any longer. "So I can trust you then that you won't do anything stupid whilst I'm not there to hold you back?"

"Probably." Thorin sighed. "I guess."

"You better don't. There's enough other ways to deal with this that _don't_ involve you getting yourself killed." Although it sounded like a joke there was a very serious undertone in her voice and Thorin could almost see the steel in her eyes. He knew that his sister's fear was not often visible and turned into anger and iron instead, strong and unbendable.

"I won't." he told her. "I don't think my superiors would be happy with it either, to be honest."

"They better." Dís grumbled. "Have y-"

"Wait a moment." Thorin frowned. "There's a call coming in from Thranduil. I didn't even know he had my private number, I'm pretty sure I only gave him my work phone and my home phone one..."

"Anything serious?"

"I won't know until I pick up."

"Then I'll talk to you later."

"Good."

Thorin took a deep breath and tried to compose himself for a moment before calling back his chief. He felt acutely uncomfortable to do on his own private phone and so he walked over to where the phone of their temporary flat was, dialing the number that his phone display showed him. Thranduil picked up in the middle of the first ring already.

"Durinsson." He sounded both sharp and tired.

"What happened?" Thorin didn't waste much time with formalities knowing that it had to be something very important if it couldn't have waited until he arrived at the office.

"Azog has broken out of prison."

There was a ringing in Thorin's ears as at Thranduil's words and he didn't hear what else his chief was saying. Thankfully he had put down his coffee mug before calling Thranduil or it might have slipped from his lifeless fingers and shattered on the floor. For a moment he was unable to think, to move or do anything else. Broken out of prison...

"How?" It was all he could get out and he hated how rough his voice sounded, as if it were already shattering around the edges.

"Daisy, we believe. She must have started planning it the moment she escaped - or maybe even before. It was an expertly planned operation. Two of Elrond's officers are dead and we're still struggling to reconstruct everything that happened."

"Fuck." It was all Thorin could say without starting to shout.

"There'll be an emergency meeting in an hour, at the place where they were holding him. I expect you to be there." Thranduil ended the call without waiting for any further answers from Thorin. With trembling fingers Thorin put the phone back into its socket before he grabbed the next best sturdy item - in his case the little iron normally used for keeping old newspapers and magazines in - and threw it against the entrance door with a shout, his frustration breaking out of him like a fountain.

He should have guessed, Thorin thought. Azog would never have been content to spend the rest of his life in a prison cell, of course; and Daisy would of course have done the utmost to keep it from happening as well. His hands shaking, he tried to keep himself from thinking about Azog also hunting for him and the rest of his family, but to little avail.

"Thorin?"

He turned around to face Dwalin who had come out of their bedroom, looking tired and confused. Thorin felt the sudden urge to bash his own head against a wall - of course, in his anger he had momentarily forgotten that Dwalin was still sleeping and the loud bang had probably just woken him up.

"I'm sorry." he said and walked over to the door to pick up the stand again and stuff the newspapers back into it. He didn't quite trust himself to talk yet.

"Any particular reason why you're destroying Nori's flat or were you just feeling like using some of your overtime money to pay for repairs?" Dwalin raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the scene in the living room.

"Azog has escaped." Thorin pressed out.

"Fuck."

Thorin would have laughed at Dwalin mirroring his own reaction so perfectly had the situation been any more light-hearted. Now, however, he could see the same emotions mirrored on Dwalin's face that had ghosted through his own mind before - disbelief, frustration, anger and fear in rapid succession and mixing together in the end, turning his grey eyes into cold steel.

"There's going to be an emergency meeting in an hour." Thorin informed him and Dwalin nodded grimly.

"I'll come, too." It wasn't a question or even an offer; it was a statement and Thorin simply nodded. Dwalin had as much right to be there as he did and even though Thranduil or Gandalf might not like it, his input would be more than valuable.

"Want some more coffee before we leave?" Thorin asked him as Dwalin was turning towards the bathroom to get ready for the day that had started so much earlier than he'd anticipated.

"Yeah, thanks."

The next half hour was rather hectic as they both somehow tried to get washed, dressed and have breakfast without tripping over each other in the process. Normally they spoke little during their morning routine and it was all a carefully planned out dance so they took as little time as possible for it. This morning, however, it was just frantic running around with the occasional shouted apology in between.

Thorin had no idea how, but by some miracle they at least managed to make it to the building in time although everybody else was already assembled as they entered the small room where the meeting would take place. Thranduil was there, as were Gandalf, Elrond and, to Thorin's surprise, Bilbo Baggins. Dwalin received the most attention when he walked in behind Thorin and Elrond frowned when he spotted his bulky figure.

"Dwalin Barkhun. SWAT team leader." Dwalin introduced himself to him. The frown on Elrond's face didn't disappear and Dwalin crossed his arms in front of his chest, signaling that he wouldn't leave this room unless someone physically dragged him away.

Gandalf made a little amiable movement with his hand, making it clear that Dwalin's presence would be tolerated although he clearly wasn't too happy about it either from the expression on his face. Thorin and Dwalin sat down opposite the others at the large table.

"The escape happened last night, in the early hours of the morning." Elrond opened the conversation, an expression on his face as if someone had just cut holes into his favorite shirt. "It was expertly planned and, we believe, carried out by more than one person although we are not quite clear on how many yet since they somehow managed to disable all of our security cameras and everyone who has seen them is either dead or heavily injured. The assault involved both offensive and defensive strategies, using brute force to deal with our men but also finer technologies to overcome the security systems. From the report of the only eye witness who we have been able to interview we can conclude that Azog's bodyguard Daisy seems to have been the main leader of the teams."

Thorin didn't even have to look at Dwalin's face to know what was going through his thoughts at the moment and he almost felt sorry for Daisy should the two ever meet again. Almost.

"Any idea where they are now?" Dwalin asked. Elrond shook his head.

"None so far. We have a few meager leads but they will most likely proof useless although of course we have increased the number of patrols and controls on various motorways and stations should they attempt to get out of the city. However..." His gaze went over to Gandalf and Thranduil, waiting for one of the two to take over from him.

 

"That isn't everything." Thranduil exchanged a glance with Gandalf who gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Thorin frowned, but waited for Thranduil to speak. His chief sighed and pulled something out of his pocket that Thorin recognized to be a piece of fabric, the patch that every officer of the Boston PD wore on one arm of his uniform sleeve to be exact. It had been ripped or maybe roughly cut out of its original uniform and after a moment Thorin realised that the dark stains on it were blood. Something was written on it in black marker.

Thranduil handed the patch over and Thorin couldn't quite keep his hands from shaking as he read the words on it. Dwalin leaned over his shoulder to read them as well and the way his hand fell heavy on Thorin's arm and squeezed said more than a hundred words.

_Smaug is at 115 Erebor Drive._

_See you there._


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the best chapter, but there was some exposition needed before we throw ourselves into action again. And I really, REALLY enjoyed writing Smaug again. 
> 
> (Also this one comes with a special apology/shoutout to Meysun - no, your wonderful comments are not forgotten and they will be replied to! I'm just working until 2am each night atm to get everything done I need to do so I have no energy left for anything xD)

Dwalin looked over to Thorin who seemed like someone had just knocked the air out of his lungs with a single blow. He cursed softly under his breath but Thorin remained quiet, his eyes wide and trained on the piece of fabric in his hand. Somehow Dwalin didn't doubt that Thorin would never forget its image. Suddenly Thorin dropped the piece of fabric as if he were disgusted by the realization that there was an officer's blood on it. Dwalin shuddered slightly. Even looking at it made him feel the chill of Azog's cold hands on his skin all over again.

"Are there any chances that he's speaking the truth?" Thorin asked, his voice sounding harsh and rough, like broken glass that had been grinded into dust under one heel to many. Dwalin did his best not to wince. He hated it to hear his partner sounding like that. Gandalf turned to Bilbo Baggins, raising his eyebrow questioningly.

"Yes." Bilbo seemed rather uncomfortable but his voice was still firm when he was speaking. "I have been there myself only once or twice at the beginning, because this is an old safehouse that has been out of use for many years according to my knowledge. It wasn't even on my radar anymore so it would make sense for him to hide there. Although there's a chance, of course, that Azog just gave you the address of one of the houses he knew about, not necessarily the one where Smaug is now."

"But even if Smaug isn't there, Azog will be." Dwalin said, his voice hard. "And he'll be waiting for Thorin to come in and set foot in his trap."

Thorin next to him didn't say anything, but Dwalin could see how his fingers had clenched into a fist.

"We'll need observation on the building, as unobtrusive as we can possibly do it." Elrond stated and Thranduil nodded.

"I'll put the best people to the task." he promised and Gandalf gave him an approving nod. Dwalin didn't doubt that he would have a say in who exactly was going to observe Smaug's eventual temporary headquarters and make sure that there would be no moles amongst the people set on the duty.

"Bilbo, do you remember anything else about the building? Its location and surroundings, anything that we might not be able to guess from satellite data?" Gandalf asked. Bilbo frowned, obviously going back in his mind to the time when he had been there.

"A few things." he admitted. "I can make you a list later, if you want. For now, shouldn't we discuss how else we will proceed?"

Gandalf relented grudgingly, obviously keen on getting the information they needed out of Bilbo right there and then. It was fascinating to see how Bilbo had seemingly little trouble to resist him and Dwalin briefly wondered what kind of history those two were sharing. It certainly had to be a unique one and privately he had to admit that he never thought that Bilbo Baggins would have this much spine.

He shot a worried glance over in Thorin's direction, wondering what was going through his mind now. He could imagine the cold shock only all too well, but also saw the anger that lined the edges of his partner's gaze and knew it would soon develop into a storm that might sweep away everything if they weren't careful.

"We'll have to act fast." Thorin said, his voice still having that rough, flat, almost dead tone. "Smaug could be gone from there any minute and who knows when Azog will arrive."

"Unlikely." Bilbo threw in, all of a sudden. "Smaug will want to wait until everything has calmed down before doing anything again and he'll only strike once the people have started to forget about him. I cannot speak for Azog, but from the note I gathered that he's waiting for you to make an appearance. He's no fool and he won't run in there as fast as he can unless he has other plans that we aren't privy to. I bet he has a few men watching the place as well and is now planning his move. You have the upper hand here; neither of them is likely going to move until you do."

Thorin's fingers were flexing and Dwalin could almost hear the maelstrom of thoughts that was whirling around in his mind right now. The desire to jump up and do something had to be simply overwhelming and Dwalin could feel the same desire surge through his veins. His own memories of the time with Azog was something he rarely talked about but sometimes he still woke up with the taste of his own blood in his mouth, the scar on his face aching. At those times, once the fear had passed, there was always a burning anger left inside him that only tripled in its wrath when he looked over to Thorin.

"Still, we will wait." Thranduil said, throwing a careful glance at Thorin and Dwalin. "Right now, it will be much more of an advantage to us if we know everything there is to know about the place and the situation. I will see no more lives needlessly endangered because we have been acting too fast."

Dwalin stiffened at his words, knowing well who that little quip was meant for, although he tried not to let it show on his face. He was well enough aware that Thorin and him would have to keep each other in check.

"So why have you called me here if all that we're going to do is to wait?" Thorin asked sharply. Thranduil looked as if Thorin had just spray painted his cat green.

"Because you needed to be informed about everything that was going on, of course." he said stiffly.

"All your decisions had been made beforehand though, hadn't they?" Thorin retorted. "You can't fool me, Thranduil. If you'd thought it bad for me to see that message you wouldn't have shown it to me. And what I or Dwalin think has absolutely no influence on your decision, doesn't it."

Thranduil looked almost guilty at Thorin's words. Almost. Dwalin guessed that he wasn't amused that Thorin had called him out so pointedly in front of everyone. The realization made him feel a strange sort of satisfaction - seeing Thranduil uncomfortable was something that rarely happened.

"As your superior officer, I have every right of making that decision on my own." Thranduil shot back and Dwalin could see the anger spark in his eyes. Thorin would have to be careful, for their chief's wrath was something that shouldn't be underestimated. Dwalin put a hand on his arm to remind him of that and he could feel Thorin's muscles thrumming beneath his fingers, almost pulsating with anger. Just as he opened his mouth to fire another accusation in Thranduil's direction, Gandalf raised his hand and intervened.

"Enough of that now." the old man said. "There are more important things to consider."

"Such as?" This time it was Elrond who asked.

"Working out an exact plan for what is going to happen over the next few days, of course, planning for all eventualities. Also, Durinsson, I have personally chosen five more men to protect your sister and her sons now that Azog is free again."

Thorin seemed to be taken aback by the latter part of Gandalf's words, clearly not having expected them.

"Thank you." he nodded at him and Dwalin felt some careful relief flooding him. He didn't know how he or Thorin would be able to handle it if anything happened to Dís, Fíli or Kíli and his mind refused to think about it.

Gandalf replied with a little nod of his own before he began shuffling the papers on the desk in front of him.

"Now, as for the plan..."

***

Smaug frowned as he looked outside, tapping one finger on his chin. It was as grey a day as it could get and the streets and houses seemed to melt into one with the sky. He didn't mind; he had never truly cared about the weather, neither appreciating sunshine or abhorring rain overly much and now that he was caught up inside he minded even less.

He turned back to the flowers in front of him, pruning the freshly cut stems of their leaves and arranging them in such a way that it was to his aesthetic satisfaction. The only thing he regretted was that he was unable to go outside for the moment; it would be far too high of a security risk, so he'd had sent one of his most trusted men with specific instructions on which flowers in his garden to cut and bring to him.

Smaug looked at the flowers in front of him and frowned again, picking up one that seemed to be at odds with the others. A knotweed. A weed that grew in the wetter corners of his garden, bland and rather unattractive and yet able to destroy the entire picture.

Just like Bilbo Baggins.

He hissed and, with a sudden violent movement, squashed the unwanted plant between his fingers. It had come to him very soon after he had escaped the cursed place - they way Baggins had been a little more fidgety than usual, how he was the only one who hadn't been shot at. All these years where he had never suspected. Smaug wasn't even sure if a good part of his anger wasn't directed at himself because he hadn't noticed - the mastermind in his head was able to acknowledge and even admire Bilbo Baggins' ingenuity. That he should have been fooled for so long...it was quite a masterpiece that the inconspicuous little man had brought onto the stage. Well, Baggins would pay for it. Sooner or later he would.

Smaug had hesitated for only a moment when he had chosen this particular place, 115 Erebor Drive, as his safehouse. Baggins had been here only twice and that had been long ago and Smaug had always taken care to have one safe place that only he knew about. The rest of his employees had thought this house long abandoned, so it had been a natural choice for him in his current situation. He knew that the risk of leaving the city at the moment was much greater than the risk of staying - the police would be vigilant and have erected street barriers and controls everywhere. No, better to lay low until the smoke had cleared.

There was a knock on the door that pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Come in." he told the one waiting outside after he had brushed off the remnants of the knotweed from his hands and cleaned them.

"Sir." The woman bobbed her head slightly and waited for his permission to speak. It had to be something important since all of his employees knew how much he disliked to be interrupted. With a small hand gesture he granted her leave to continue.

"We just received report from one of our sources in the police that Azog has escaped, sir. Apparently his bodyguard and a few helpers broke in last night and killed several officers in the process."

Smaug's hands stopped their constant movement for a split second before he caught himself and gave the woman a short nod, dismissing her after she had handed him a full report of what their source had been able to uncover at the police station. He skimmed the writing but it didn't tell him anything he didn't already know or had at least suspected - ever since he had heard that Azog was the only one who had been taken prisoner he had been sure that his bodyguard would come for him. Daisy was nothing if not loyal to her boss - Smaug knew as much because he had tried more than once to win her over into his own services by offering to double her pay but she had always declined politely. Unfortunately, she was also amongst the very best in her profession.

Smaug leaned back into his chair and looked at the flowers in front of him, searching for any sign of imperfection as he pondered the implications of what he had just been told. He wondered how long it would take Azog to come to this place; for of course Azog knew about it even though it was unlikely that he would have ever admitted it openly. Smaug disliked surprises and he had seen the same quality in Azog; he would have made sure to know everything about his boss at all time so he could get out of any misfortune that might befall Smaug.

Would Azog try and kill him?

Perhaps, Smaug mused. Normally, the man's decisions were made with a calm and calculating mind, if not as calculating as Smaug's; but he had a strain for personal retribution that wasn't only restricted to Durinsson and his family. And Smaug had seen the fury in Azog's eyes as he had been purposely left behind by him. Smaug had known all too well that the SWAT team would concentrate on taking Azog prisoner and the he would be able to evade the teams waiting outside easily.

He sighed, feeling a faint whiff of almost something akin to regret in his mind. He would likely have to have Azog killed if he was no longer working for him now and it was rather a waste of good talent. As he picked up his flowers once more there was another knock on the door and Smaug frowned, rather disliking the second interruption during so short a time.

"Sir, there is someone here to see you." The young man's voice sounded nervous and Smaug sighed with annoyance. Hadn't he told his people to always deliver their reports clearly and concisely?

"Who is it?" he asked.

"It's me, my old friend." The door opened fully and Azog strode through. He looked none the worse for wear for his time in prison, on the contrary. There was an almost visible energy about him, like that of a young child who was excited for the presents on his birthday. If Smaug would have been the type to wager he'd have put money on the fact that Daisy was waiting outside, ready to barge in at the slightest sound of disruption.

Smaug remained seated behind his table, putting great effort into appearing completely calm. However, he knew exactly where his personal gun was should he have to use it and even should Azog try, he would not be able to kill him so quickly, of that much he was sure.

"Azog. It is good to see you again." he inclined his head slightly, never looking away from Azog's tall figure.

"If you're worried that I've lead the police to your little hideaway, you shouldn't be." Azog smiled slightly. "Nobody saw me coming."

"I'm sure they didn't." Smaug replied, well aware that Aozg wasn't only talking about 115 Erebor Drive.

"I only wanted to come by to give you my regards and to ask to remain here for a few days. Surely it would pose no big problem for you, given that my accommodation for the past few days has been rather...unsatisfactory." It was the smile of a predator that spread over Azog's face.

"Of course." Smaug knew that to refuse him would have only led to more annoying trouble. "Apologies that you had to spend your last few nights in such unsavory company."

Azog's smile remained, although the glint of absolute rage in his eyes grew stronger at Smaug's answer. Neither of them would go as low as to directly accuse each other - Azog knew what Smaug had done and Smaug knew it as well, fully aware of every single consequence of his actions. Time would show who would break first, but Smaug was determined not to let it go that far. He would keep Azog around a while longer, a good pawn to bring the SWAT team's attention away from him and create some more havoc. But as soon as his tool had outlived its usefulness, he would get rid of it, no doubt about that.

"I assume that your bodyguard will stay with you?" Smaug inquired.

"Of course." Azog's smile changed to something that could almost be called 'non-committal'. "I have also brought a few of my own men to bolster your security force. One should never underestimate the wrath of those hunting us."

"No. But they will not find this place." Smaug privately made a note to have at least two of his own people accompany each one of Azog's. For all he knew it had been a complete ruse and Azog had been let go by the police in what looked like a staged escape in return for leading them to Smaug. He doubted that Azog would sink so low as to work with the police, given that his hatred for them probably ran deeper than even his hatred for Smaug at the moment, but there was no way to be sure.

"Then it should be no problem for me to remain here for a while, should it?" Azog remarked.

"Indeed not." Smaug told him. "However, I suggest strongly that you remain inside the house for the time being. I do not think the police knows about this place; but they will have their watchers out all the same and so it would not be wise to venture outside for the next weeks. My people will be happy to conduct your transactions for you."

"Of course." Azog nodded slightly and Smaug could see the wheels in his head turning, searching for a way to get out of this hold of his and the power Smaug had just taken from him. He allowed himself a miniscule smile and then waved for one of his men to come closer.

"And now, if you would excuse me, there are a number of things I have to attend to. Tom here will show you to your rooms and take care of everything else you need."

"My thanks." Azog knew that the time had come to retreat, at least temporarily, and with another curt nod at Smaug he left the room. Smaug himself leaned back in his chair and put his fingers together, the thought spinning in his head of how he could make the best out of this situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The question as to the snipers Azog mentioned is intentionally not addressed. Some things will stay in the dark a while longer...) 
> 
> As I said before, not sure quite how long it'll take me to do the next one although I'll give my best, but my Hobbitcon cosplays + work & birthdays coming up are robbing me of my last nerves at the moment. In relation to that - if any of your wonderful peeps are coming to Hobbitcon, don't hesitate to say hi! I'll be the dwarrowdam with the blue beard, blue wig and raven tattoo on at least one day and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins on the other (and whichever of the two I enjoying more on the third day xD) so please just and pat me on the shoulder, I'd love to meet more of my readers!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, here it is! Brought to you by late night writing sessions buried in uni work, fabric and lots of hair xDDD.

All of them were here.

An eerie sense of Déjà-vu overcame Thranduil as he looked at the people in front of him - it had been quite some time since he had been active in the field, but that didn't mean that he'd forgotten any of it. Not at all. He knew every single person standing before him now, had seen them grow and watched them throughout their careers in this unit - and he was aware that by the end of this day, some of the faces he was seeing now might well be missing. Some were newer, some older, but it was clear that nobody here could be measured by the simple amount of years accumulated on earth alone - everyone in those teams had been handpicked by him, whether they realised it or not.

Some of them, like Thorin, Dwalin, Glóin and others had lost more than they'd probably ever dared to think of in recent years, not in a small part due to their work here. Decades ago Thranduil might have felt guilty over this, that the work they were doing with him had led them to lose those they loved. However, he had learned over the years to keep those feeling away from himself by necessity. Gandalf had taught him that it would be impossible to be an effective leader if such things were still moving his heart; a certain ruthlessness was needed, to value the work of his team members but not let any unnecessary other feelings get in the way of what had to be done.

Tonight might be another one of these evenings were sacrifices would be necessary, he mused. Yes, he knew that his team was good, one of the best, and under normal circumstances (as far as circumstances could be normal in their line of work) there would be little risk of injury or death on one of their missions. This, however, was different, and they all knew it.

Dáin's absence gaped like a hole in the middle of his team and although it was now clear that he would be pulling through alive despite his permanent injuries, the fact did little to alleviate tension. All of them were too well trained to hop from one foot to another but Thranduil knew his people well and could see the nervousness on their faces nonetheless. The foe they were going up against had taken far too many from their midst and Thranduil could only hope that the rage at those actions wouldn't endanger the team work that was both key and foundation to their success.

"Are we all clear on the plan?" he asked the assembled team members and received quick nods as answer from everyone. Thorin's one was the curtest and the frustration and burning anger in his gaze said more than any words how disappointed he was to be in charge of communications once more during this operation, even though he was well aware that his personal history with both Azog and Smaug and his knee injury could prove a liability and endanger other members of his team. As such Thorin would hopefully remain where he was and not let his emotions overrule his duties.

Thranduil glanced at the spot next to him where someone was standing who nobody had quite expected there. Bilbo Baggins looked rather uncomfortable, but the determination in his eyes could not be mistaken. He would join Thorin in their surveillance van - it would be too dangerous to send him back inside the house, but his knowledge of the terrain and the people involved would very definitely come in more than useful for them. Bilbo had agreed to be part of the operation almost on the spot - although this mission was almost at an end for him he seemed to regard it as a personal duty to see it through to the end and help as best as he could.

"Good," Thranduil told his people. There were two or three new recruits amongst them this time, something which he had hoped to avoid, but their recent shortage of personnel had left him with little choice. He could only hope that they wouldn't have to pay for their inexperience with their lives.

"Smaug, Azog and their people will likely know that we are coming, no matter how well we aim to disguise our approach. We have to expect heavy resistance and although we would like to avoid casualties, it might not always be possible to do so. They have to be kept from escaping by all means possible. Understood?"

"Yessir." The murmur was like a fly buzzing through the room.

"Mr. Baggins, do you have anything else to add to what we've already talked about?"

Bilbo nodded and stepped forward at Thranduil's words.

"Remember, it's been almost a decade since I was there the last time," he began. "As such, all information I gave you has to be treated with caution - many of the facts might not be applicable anymore. Smaug has likely added new rooms, tunnels underground and severely improved the security with the newest measures - the house is unlikely to be booby-trapped but we cannot wholly exclude that possibility either, especially since they will know we are coming. Speed is the key - Smaug, Azog and Azog's bodyguard Daisy in particular are very fast thinkers so we will have to get to them as quickly as possible. And as you all know - they are ruthless. Be careful."

Thranduil nodded at his words as Bilbo returned to his place next to Thorin who was still staring ahead with a quiet hardness in his gaze, his shoulder almost brushing Dwalin's. Thranduil felt a warning tugging inside him somewhere that whatever this day would bring, it would probably the change the lives of many here forever, particularly Thorin's and Dwalin's. He had never quite approved of there being a relationship between two members of his team but so far it hadn't proved much of a hindrance, on the contrary. They seemed to have been more of a support for each other than they would have been otherwise.

Now, however…he could only hope that neither would go against orders when the other’s safety was concerned. In his opinion this was the biggest risk, next to Smaug, Azog and Daisy themselves of course. He had played with the thought of ordering one of the two to stay completely out of this mission –however, he knew well that he could afford to lose neither of them. Despite all his personal dislike for those two members of his team he was still perfectly capable of acknowledging that they were two of the best officers he had.

“Alright.” Thranduil nodded. “Thank you Mister Baggins.”

Bilbo acknowledged his words with a faint returning nod of his head.

“Then let’s wait no longer,” Thranduil told the assembled people. “Good luck, everyone.”

There were murmurs buzzing through the room as his people returned his words. Thranduil watched them all file out through the door one by one, well aware how long it had been since he had last accompanied them on a mission. But the one today was far too important and weighty for it to go on without him and he had a strange feeling that his presence would be needed in the field. He would take over Ironfoot’s spot as team leader, Dwalin leading the other one as always. He hoped that the discipline he had the instructors drill into his officers would hold fast and true and they would have little trouble in adapting to his own style of leadership.

Few words were being spoken as everyone put on their gear, tested it and filed into the vans, a situation that should be extraordinary but was yet oddly comforting in its routine to the many team members who had done this so many times in their lives already. Thranduil took his place at the end of one van, noticing well how none of his people quite dared to meet his gaze, still intimidated by the fact their chief would be coming with them in person this time. It only suited Thranduil as his own mind was propelling him back to all those times that he had spent in places like these before becoming chief of the section. He had gone through the same emotions that his people were going through now - a sense of trepidation and fear, mixed with a strange excitement and the almost excruciating feeling of responsibility for his life and that of his team members that was resting on his shoulders. Thranduil knew the acid feeling of failure that ate its way through one's stomach after a mistake or even sheer bad luck; he also knew the feeling of euphoria that could sweep through one when something had gone exactly to plan. Both of them were dangerous in their own right.

As soon as the vans came to a halt, Thranduil nodded and made the appropriate hand gestures to everyone in the team to signal the start of their assault and after one last check of their communities it finally began.

*

Daisy was waiting.

Her entire body was thrumming with tension, that kind that would sharpen your senses and leave them hungry for the events to come, ready to move at even the smallest indication that action was necessary. And it would be soon, of that there was no doubt.

They had received the warning that the SWAT team was on its way about ten minutes before they arrived; Daisy had to admire the efficiency with which they were operating, but of course there was no way they would escape Smaug's equally efficient security system. Not that it would have mattered in any case - Daisy was perhaps the only other person alive in this house who knew about the message that Azog had left at the police station when she had successfully helped him escape the confinements of his cell. If everything went to plan, this day would see both Durinsson and Smaug dead for good - ideally killing each other in one way or another. It was no less than they both deserved. In the mean time Daisy rather selfishly hoped that she would have a chance to fight Dwalin Barkhun again. She hadn't forgotten the thrill of their last match and was looking forward to another round of their fight again with a tingle in her stomach.

The com in her ear crackled and a moment later, she could hear Azog's voice.

"Everything ready on your end?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Daisy told him. "All is prepared on our side."

"Good. They'll be here in a few moments."

There wasn't a single note in Azog's voice that could have suggested that something was amiss to Smaug and his henchmen at least some of which seemed to be standing nearby. Thankfully, Daisy had worked with him for so long now that she could discern the true meaning of his words without any trouble. She was ready for however things would be playing out and was more than keen on paying back both Smaug and the entire SWAT team for what had transpired in the past few weeks.

It wasn't long until she heard the familiar faint sounds of someone breaking down the front door and shouts as the first shots fell. The people they had put downstairs had the sole purpose of luring the SWAT team further inside the house; they weren't supposed to engage them earnestly, at least not yet. It was essential for their plan to work that every single part of the SWAT team would be held up inside somewhere.

Daisy listened as the reports trickled in through her com, able to hear most of the noise of the advance even without the digital device in her ear - from this distance every single shot was well audible, especially in such a confined space.

"Report on the situation, Bolg," she said quietly into her headpiece.

"Still a few people out here." the young man reported from this hidden vantage point where he was able to overlook most of the area with his night vision goggles. "Not long until they are inside though, I'd wager."

"Good. Report as soon as the last one has gone in," Daisy advised him. Bolg was one of the newest members of their team and he had risen fast through their ranks; some murmured it was because he was related to Azog by blood, others simply accepted it and kept their mouths shut. Bolg didn't take kindly to people questioning either his position or his abilities. Personally, Daisy thought that there was some similarity between him and Azog at least; but in the end she didn't care and nobody would profit from her speculating.

There was another loud crash beneath her and she guessed that one of the main doors had been brought down. Frowning, Daisy changed her current position, moving to a different room further away. The SWAT team was moving faster than she'd had anticipated but they would not be able to pull their main trump card until all of them had entered the building. She could only hope that neither Smaug nor Azog would lose their patience first and try to kill each other. Not _yet_ , anyway.

Another loud sound shook the house and Daisy mentally tried to map where it seemed to be coming from. It was the rear part of the mansion this time and she cursed quietly, knowing that they would have to act soon before the SWAT team had the entire ground floor under control.

"Try to keep them where they are. No more advances," she snarled into her com. If they had to sacrifice a few of their people to guarantee the success of their plan, it would be worth it. There was a muffled confirmation that her order had been heard and Daisy frowned again, waiting once more for more report. It seemed to take an eternity until Bolg's voice crackled through the com again.

"They're all in." It was all he said and all the confirmation she needed.

"First row, detonate." Her voice was calm and detached.

Not long after her command, the building shook under several explosions. Somewhere in her a room a few glasses fell down and shattered on the wooden floor; she paid them no attention. She could only imagine the chaos downstairs as the SWAT team realised that ever single exit had been blocked and they were caught up inside now, with no major way out.

Time for phase two of their plan.

Daisy weighed the old looking walkie-talkie in her hand, smiling faintly. Thank the heavens that Smaug had such good engineers working under him. She gave the command through her com, fingers readily at her ear to switch it off as soon as she had uttered the last word.

"Now!"

*

Thorin felt acutely uncomfortable.

He had never liked being confined into a close space with people whose presence he wasn't entirely comfortable in; and nowadays that included most people and especially the likes of Bilbo Baggins. Thorin wasn't quite sure if he could ever forgive the man for the role he had played in the murder of his brother or his own injuries although he had firmly promised himself that he wouldn't let his personal feelings influence his work, not this time. Therefore he gritted his teeth and tried to ban his uneasiness from his mind as he sat in the van, concentrating on the communication channels and equipment as best as he could.

Bilbo was quiet as well, obviously not exactly comfortable in his presence and there was no attempt from either of them to alleviate the situation in any way. Thorin listened as the team broke down the main doors of the mansion, always keeping an eye on the floor plan in front of them that they had managed to conjure up, not entirely sure whether that plan was accurate or not. Still, it was better than nothing.

From the constant updates Thorin inferred that there seemed to be little resistance so far, something that troubled him in the back of his mind and he knew wouldn't go unnoticed by anyone else on the crew either. Whatever you thought about Azog's and Smaug's men, one thing was for certain - they were no cowards. What they were doing, they were doing it on purpose and Thorin had a bad feeling about it.

He looked over at Bilbo who had his own part of the com system set up to listen in on all the communications that passed back between Thorin and the teams - he had no authority to give orders of his own, but everyone would listen to his advice should the need for it prove critical.

The feeling of wrongness inside Thorin's stomach reached its peak as soon as the last few SWAT members had entered the building, apart from a small reserve that they had held back in the vans, hopefully undetected by their enemies. Not one second later there was a loud bang that made all communication impossible for a moment.

"Team Alpha, Team Beta, report!" Thorin bellowed harshly.

"A series of explosions." Thranduil's voice sounded remarkably calm and Thorin had the absurd urge for a moment to tell him where he could shove his calmness. "Nobody hurt. We are, however, locked inside the building now."

"Fuck." That was very audibly Dwalin's voice and Thorin breathed a little sigh of relief, paired with a small smile as he imagined Thranduil's face at the sound of such profanities in his ear.

"Careful." Bilbo's voice cut through them. Thorin looked at him with raised eyebrows at the interruption, but Bilbo continued. "I'm sure this wasn't the only nasty surprise waiting for you."

"Of course, Mister Baggins." There was just a hint of annoyed arrogance in Thranduil's voice and Bilbo rolled his eyes. "We will-"

There was a sudden screech in the line so loud that both Thorin and Bilbo ripped the com sets off their ears with pained expressions. It had sounded like fingernails on chalkboard, just amplified a hundred times and for a while Thorin could hear nothing but the ringing in his own ears. When he finally came to his senses again, he discovered to his dismay that half of the electronics in the van were dead. Including the communication systems.

"EMP," Bilbo said, his eyes wide. "I'd read reports that they were developing a strong one that could even take out protected SWAT gear but I never thought they-"

"Does that mean all communications are cut?" Thorin cut through his words. There was a terrified whine at the edge of his brain.

"Yes." Bilbo still seemed to be in shock, only watching in astonishment as Thorin stood up and began putting his gear on in methodical movements.

"I'm going in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, we are nearing the end. And no, I still haven't decided which of the three endings I have I'm going to choose xD. And, final reminder, if you are Hobbitcon, come and say hi! I'm Lobelia and the dwarrodwam with the blue beard respectively. :)


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand here we are, the next one!

"You can't." Bilbo's voice sounded remarkably calm and Thorin was vaguely surprised. But then, he supposed, living in constant danger of being found out and killed for over a decade would probably do that to you. "There is no other way in and you know it. All entrances are blocked."

"I'm sure there'll be a way," Thorin told him firmly. He distantly wondered why he wasn't completely freaking out, but the moment the worst had happened his years long SWAT experience had apparently kicked in, enabling him to make vaguely rational decisions even when one part of his brain was doing nothing but screaming and quivering in fear of what might happen to those that were inside. "Any entrances that you know of which might not be closed off?"

Bilbo shook his head.

"None."

Thorin was unable to tell whether Bilbo was lying to protect him or whether he truly didn't have the knowledge. A deep dark part inside him thought briefly about getting the answer out of Bilbo by any means necessary - but then he shook his head and simply continued to put on his gear. It would cost too much time and he was fairly sure Bilbo would not be intimated by him, not to mention that it wasn't exactly the right thing to do.

"We still have some old gear in the van," Thorin said by way of explanation as he opened one of the drawers that he produced a couple of almost ancient looking walkie-talkies from.

"I hope they survived that EMP. The teams inside and the reserve outside will need them." With those words Thorin threw one of the old items at Bilbo who caught it, his eyes still wide open.

"So that you can stay in contact with us."

"Why do you not simply hand them to the reserve and return here?" Bilbo demanded to know and Thorin shook his head in reply.

"It will be far faster and easier for one person to get through and those inside will need coms again." He cut off Bilbo's protest with a movement of his hand, not willing to listen to him any further. With a few words he explained to Bilbo how the old walkie-talkies worked - and a quick test confirmed that they were still functional indeed. At least a small sliver of hope. Maybe not everything was lost yet.

"Thorin." Bilbo's voice sounded out again as Thorin was reaching out to open the door to outside. It felt strange to be wearing full gear again and yet it was familiar and, in an absurd way, almost comfortable. He knew what to do. He had been through this situation so many times, this time was no different (and yet it was. It _was_ ).

"You shouldn't," Bilbo repeated and there was an almost desperate note in his voice now. "You might-"

"Die," Thorin finished the sentence for him, an inner calm slowly settling inside his stomach. This was it, for better or worse. He would finally be able to finish what had begun so long ago. "Yeah. But maybe not."

And with that, he opened the door to the outside and stepped into the fresh air that was now filled with dust from the explosions.

*

Dwalin was cursing so intently that he barely even felt the tap on his shoulder at first. They had all covered their ears in agony when the their electronics had been blown and he supposed he could be lucky that none of them had been shot where they were standing in the momentary confusion. Their training kicked in after a few seconds and they all took cover as well as they could. A quick check confirmed that indeed, their coms were completely dead and Dwalin thought the time until the end of his life ( _which might not be that far away now_ , a cynical part of his brain added) wouldn't be enough to insult Smaug as much as he deserved in his mind, even though Dwalin had to congratulate him for what had been a brilliant move on his part. 

The fingers on his shoulder ripped him out of his thoughts and for a surreal moment he thought Thorin had come, for the gesture was such a familiar one between them. But of course, Thorin was hopefully still safely sequestered in the van outside ( _At least one of us will definitely make it out alive_ , Dwalin thought) and it was Tauriel who signaled him with her hands. Dwalin waved at the other members of his team to come closer, hoping that Thranduil had his own team safe somewhere. Their coms now useless they were forced to rely on their usual hand signals and spoken words, the latter of which would of course become impossible as soon as the gunfire would pick up again.

There was little to do now but adhere to the original strategies and act to the best of their knowledge; or to the best of Dwalin's knowledge given that he was the leader of his team and first in command now that Thranduil wasn't here.

Dwalin barely finished his thoughts before gunfire rang out again, killing off every attempt at successful communication. He signaled the positions everyone was supposed to take to the others before they slowly began advancing again towards where the gun shots were coming from. The fire was much more rigorous than earlier in what Dwalin realised was now an earnest attempt to kill them instead of just drawing them deeper into the house.

The tear gas they'd brought did little to help their work; of course their foes had brought gas masks and so the gas ultimately didn't do much apart from obstructing their sight. It was of no use whatsoever and Dwalin soon signaled his team to lay off their use entirely. At least they had all attempted to memorise as much of the floor plan of the house as they could. Their first priority was to seal off the lower levels and make sure that there was no escape left for those remaining.

Dwalin risked a look past the wall that he was standing behind and almost got rewarded with a bullet into his head, swearing quietly. He signed over to Tauriel on the other side of the doorway to try and attempt to break through during the next pause in gunfire; the rest of the team nodded as well to signal that they had understood his intent. They would react the moment he and Tauriel did.

Finally, a break in the deafening noise of the arms their foes had brought. Dwalin could only pray that they would be slow to reload and not have too many foes waiting on the other side. He signaled to Tauriel and they both leapt forward at the same time, sense sharpened and the adrenaline rushing in their ears. It was only a matter of seconds until gunfire greeted them once more, but at least it had been enough time for the two of them to find some makeshift cover. The wooden desk wouldn't hold long, but long enough to let them catch another breath. Others were not so lucky - Dwalin could see one of his team members go down as they followed him and could only hope that he wasn't seriously wounded. Their body armor should help with protecting them from many things, but even armor had its weakness and a direct hit could still bruise heavily, even break a rib or too. And if the ammunition was the right kind, it could kill just as easily, armour or no.  

They kept exchanging fire but there was no real change in the situation. Dwalin wondered distantly what the others were doing now that he was out of contact with them and whether Thorin  had found a way to send in the reserves despite the blocked doorways. As far as he remembered they surely had some old walkie-talkies stored _somewhere_. 

All of a sudden the fire cut out. Dwalin was unable to hear much through his ear protection but it seemed strange; his long experience told him that there was a different quality to this fire pause than to the one before. He risked one quick glance around the edge of his cover and his suspicions were confirmed immediately - someone had stepped in front of the shooters, obviously of higher command for they obeyed her orders instantly. Dwalin felt his breath catch in his lungs at the hot anger flooding through his body as he recognised her.

Daisy.

*

Thorin made sure to remain as much in cover as he could from the moment that he exited the van. Years old instincts took over as soon as he set foot on the asphalt and for a while he couldn't even feel the faint aching of his knee that had been at the edge of his mind constantly ever since he had woken up in hospital more than five years ago. It felt good to be back again like this.

First he made sure to stop by the reserve team that had been waiting outside, hopefully out of sight of Smaug's and Azog's surveillance teams. His explanation of what had happened was brief and on point; he didn't want to give any of them the chance to hold him back and although he knew that Thranduil was going to have his hide for this he purposely didn't tell them what he was planning on doing, simply ordering them to try and free up the main entrance as fast they possibly could. Then they would be able to support their comrades inside since it was more unlikely Smaug would expect an attack from that side. Thorin was gone again before anybody could think of questioning him.

He approached the building carefully, the rough images of its floor plan and outside burnt into his brain. There were two entrances - one at the front and one in the back, leading out into the small garden that was surrounded by the house on three sides. There might be more exits on the rear but Bilbo had known nothing about them. Thorin wondered if there were any and if so, if any of those remained unblocked in case Smaug & co. needed to flee. He made his way around the building quickly, hoping that he might be able to weasel through somehow.

It didn't take long for a side entrance to come into sight and as soon as it did, Thorin cursed under his breath. He used one of the walkie-talkies he was carrying to tell Bilbo about the entrance and what he was about to do before switching it off and storing it in the bag over his shoulder with the others. There was a rather large amount of rubble in front of the doorway and the gap at the top certainly wasn't big enough for Thorin to squish through, especially not with all the gear he was wearing at the moment. He briefly considered taking off his gear and leaving it here but after a short moment he decided against it. It would be too much of a risk and knowing Smaug the surrounding rooftops were surely not be empty. Trying to take as much cover as he could, he slowly climbed up the unstable little mountain of dust and concrete and began to widen the opening by removing rubble as fast as possible.

He had just moved another, larger boulder when something struck the concrete block next to him, sending splinters in all directions which only narrowly missed his eyes. Decades old reflexes made Thorin drop into cover immediately; however, before he could find a safe position on the pile of rubble he slipped and slid down the short way towards the ground. On the way down his bad knee crashed into one of the boulders and Thorin was unable to hold back the scream that ripped itself from his lips. For a second he felt nothing but screeching pain that wrapped itself around his body, taking the breath from his lips and causing black spots to rise in front of his vision. It took all his self control to slowly subdue the agony. Gritting his teeth, he found that he was able to still move his leg, hopefully enough to help him reach the two teams locked inside.  

It was impossible for him to discern where the sniper was that had just tried to shoot him. He knew that they had their own sniper teams securing the rooftops so it was likely someone sitting in one of the upper flats of the surrounding buildings, guarding this entrance specifically. Thorin cursed once more. The first time he had been safe by sheer luck; there was no guarantee that would hold a second time.

He took a deep breath and reached upwards again as well as he could - there were only two more larger pieces of rubble that had to be moved and then he would be able to slide in. Hoping his next actions weren't completely foolish, he scrambled over again as fast as his knee allowed and knocked one of the boulders aside, making sure to always keep moving. Another bullet hit the stone next to him, followed by one that grazed the side of his body armour and almost made him lose balance. Quietly he thanked his wisdom for not taking the armour off - the shot could have easily wounded him severely in that case instead of only leaving some nasty bruises. He managed to get the next stone out of the way as well and was finally able to slip inside, miraculously without getting hit by any more bullets. Maybe luck was on his side today after all.

Almost eerie stillness greeted him once he entered the mansion, all senses sharpened and on his maximum guard. It wasn't so much silence (he could still hear the noise of gunfire reverberating from elsewhere in the house) but the fact that at least here, nothing and nobody was moving. If he remembered the last position of the teams correctly he should be in one of the areas they had already secured. Carefully Thorin made his way to the other end of the short corridor, wondering what might be behind the door that awaited him on the other side. Holding his breath he listened first and when he could hear no sign that anyone of his teams should be lurking there, he swung the door open as quickly as possible, not wanting to risk his knee with a kick.

The result was rather underwhelming.

There was nobody on the other side although the gunshots had become louder. Thorin pondered briefly which way he should go now - should he try to get to Dwalin's last known position first? Or seek out their chief to deliver the walkie-talkies to him and wait for more orders?

The decision was made easier for him when the sound of Azog's voice suddenly came from his right where a set of stairs led downwards.

" _Durinsson_."

It was loud in Thorin's ears, louder than it had any right to be and he frowned. There was no denying that this was Azog and the way he said his name made drops of freezing cold trickle down his back. The pain in his knee suddenly seemed to be even stronger than before and for a terrifying moment all he could think was ' _What if he has Dwalin?_ '. His stomach seemed to shrink and shrivel at the thought and for a second he was back in the old warehouse, the bag with documents in his hand, looking at Dwalin across the room and quietly asking his forgiveness. He wasn't sure if he would be able to live through a situation like that for a second time.

Thorin began to follow the voice through the mansion, still being as careful as possible. He knew that Azog was luring him somewhere and that it would probably be much better to avoid it; but he also knew that he was unable to stray from this path, no matter whether he would have to drag himself to the end of it bleeding and half dead. This was the conclusion of a fight that had gone on for decades and every single sinew in his body was screaming to finally finish it, to get rid of that spectre that had been haunting him for almost all of his life.

" _Durinsson._ " There it was again, Azog's voice, seemingly edging Thorin on in his desire to find him.

It took all of Thorin's strength not to throw caution in the wind and run towards where it was coming from. He would not die so close to his goal tripped by a simple booby trap on the ground or an ambush from Azog's henchmen. For a moment he wondered whether he should drop the bag with the walkie-talkies over his shoulder, but then he decided against it. Once he had taken care of this, he would be able to give them to the others - he trusted Dwalin and his boss enough to be able to take care of their teams until then.

Time seemed to be lost as Thorin limped through the hallways of the house which still seemed eerily empty to him. Had Azog told everyone to stay out of his way? Were they all engaged with the SWAT teams? Thorin didn't know but he found that he didn't quite care either way. It almost seemed to him as if he was caught in his own stretch of eternity, following the voices of the past. Maybe he was nothing more than a ghost caught in his own story after all.

Azog's voice called his surname a third time and then a fourth and finally Thorin found himself standing in front of a heavy wooden double door that looked almost out of place, below ground as they currently were. There were voices on the inside, angry shouts and the sound of several gunshots.

Thorin was ready to barge inside when the doors in front of him opened. He immediately registered several things - one: the portable speakers on a table to side, no doubt the source of Azog's voice that had guided him here; two: the heavily armed men who had just opened the door for him; three: the unmoving figures on the floor, either dead or unconscious; and, most importantly, four: the two men who stood at the other end of the room, one's gaze like molten lava and the other's nothing but cold ice. _So he does exist_ , Thorin thought distantly. _Smaug is more than a legend after all_.

The one he truly only had eyes for, however, was pointing a gun at him and smiled his own, humourless grin as he snarled his greeting.

"Good to see you again, Durinsson."

Azog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that everything going on here still makes sense (orchestrating this battle and what goes on where feels a little like directing a group of dancers around xD) and it's relatively clear where each actor in this play is. Get ready for some actual fighting in the next chapter!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand here we go! The beginning of the end! Buckle up and let's do this.

Several things happened simultaneously.

Instead of replying, Thorin simply lifted his weapon, aimed and pulled the trigger in one fluid motion. At the same time he dropped himself to the ground, his reflexes and the millisecond of surprise the only thing that saved his head from getting blown off. Instead the bullet from Azog's gun grazed his arm at the vulnerable point right above his elbow, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. It had certainly been worth it for the brief look of utter surprise on Azog's features though, Thorin thought.

There was a roar of pain which meant he had definitely hit his target, however, he had apparently missed the killing shot. Either he had gotten worse or Azog had better reflexes than he'd thought. Thorin didn't have time, however, to contemplate the situation for too long - as expected, the two men who had opened the door were over him now and even though he managed to catch one of them with a bullet in the shoulder, they quickly managed to wrestle the weapon away from Thorin.

"Don't kill him!" Thorin could hear Azog roar from the other end of the room before all his senses snapped back to attention and focused right on his two opponents again.

There was a reason Thranduil had given him the task of teaching the new recruits after he had been unable to go out into the field anymore. Thorin didn't really feel any desire to harbor false pride, but he knew he was good. Otherwise he wouldn't have gotten the job at the unit in the first place. And in this case, he had the advantage of wearing his full gear whereas his opponents were simply staffed with a tactical vest and not much else. If he had been at his full strength, there was little question who would have won the fight, they or him.

What they lacked in protection, however, the two men made up for with their abilities and almost incredible speed. These weren't your usual street thugs, Thorin noticed as he kicked one of them in the kneecap with his healthy foot and simultaneously tried to evade the knife the other one had drawn seemingly out of nowhere. These were fighters as well trained as himself, maybe even former Navy SEALs or even SWAT officers.

The knife ripped the fabric over his chest but bounced off the chest plate, at least for now and Thorin turned, trying to get back on his legs again as fast as he could. His gun was out of reach for the moment but his own knife wasn't. There was the sound of two more gunshots in the air but either they weren't directed at him or the shooter had terrible aim for Thorin felt nothing. With a shout he jumped on his feet again, ignoring the pain rippling through him at the movement as his leg almost buckled under the sudden weight. His own blade met that of the other man's and for a second both of them were straining, trying to overpower each other before Thorin stepped away all of a sudden, lashing out to his left side where the other man had come up again. Suddenly no weight against his own weapon anymore, his attacker with the knife stumbled and Thorin used the opportunity to lash out with his own knife and give him a deep wound across the forearm.

The other man's foot collided with his healthy knee and Thorin suppressed a shout of pain as he slashed again, ducking away from a second attack and coming in from the side towards one of his opponents. His eyes seemed to register everything with unnatural speed, the adrenaline thrumming in his veins, but he knew that his opponents were feeling no different.

He used every trick he had learned both on the streets in his first years as a cop and during training and fighting later on. They weren't fighting fair and neither was he - this here was about winning, about survival, not about looking good.

And yet he almost lost.

The men knew that his right leg was his weak point and although he did his best to protect it, it was only a question of time until they managed to hit him there, rendering him momentarily unable to breathe. He saw something flash from the corner of his eye and tried turn away, but wasn't fast enough to entirely evade the blade that was meant to kill him by stabbing him in the unprotected area under his armpit. Instead the knife cut through a few layers of cloth and half-buried itself in his side before it was ripped out again.

Thorin could feel the pain that should have been rippling through him as a constant deep thrumming in his head; but for now the adrenaline in his body paired with the initial shock did its work and he finished his motion, kicking the knife out of the man's hand. If he was lucky the blade had only cut muscle and he wouldn't be bleeding out on the floor in the next ten minutes, he thought almost distractedly. Odd, what clarity of thought sometimes occurred at the oddest moments.

Somehow his ferociousness was almost doubled by the injury and he roared as he finally managed to bring the first man down, using his own knife to render him motionless. Once only one of the two was left it became easier and with a last explosion of strength Thorin managed to overwhelm him as well before he staggered back against one of the opened doors, pressing a hand to his side. Breathing seemed to become a whole lot more difficult all of a sudden and he was gasping for air. His eyes dimly registered that his hand came away red from his side, but what was more important was the rest of the room.

The two gunshots he had heard earlier had indeed not been meant for him - they had apparently been meant for Smaug instead who was being held at gunpoint by an Azog whose furious expression made him seem almost less than human. Azog was bleeding from a deep wound on his shoulder and Thorin felt a momentary sting of deep satisfaction at the sight. His hand went to his gun but of course it wasn't there any more, lying on the floor far too far away for him to grab it now.

"I could shoot _him_ right here. Or shoot you, for that matter." Azog's voice seemed level, but the fury behind it was a barely contained storm.

"You won't." Thorin replied. The fear and rage he felt at the sight of Azog standing right in front of him were still screaming in his head, but it was as if he was listening to them from behind a curtain.

"You're right. I won't. Because I'll be up in the attic, watching you all die. So, I won't kill him. But _you_ will."

With those words Azog stepped behind Smaug and shoved him forward, almost into Thorin's arms.

*

The satisfaction that was spreading in Daisy's stomach at the sight of Dwalin Barkhun was hot and deep. She had been waiting for this, had wanted it ever since they first met and instinctively she knew that their previous fights had been nothing but little skirmishes compared to what was going to come. And now they were finally here and Dwalin Barkhun was where she wanted him.

The gunfire stopped immediately as soon as she raised her hand in a visible sign after having barked a few commands into the com she was carrying, specifically constructed with its resistance to an EMP in mind. The people in this room were all her own; the moment that she had received word from Azog that Thorin had entered the building they had very quickly gotten rid of most of Smaug's crew. Daisy was firmly expecting that her employer had by now eliminated all of Smaug's people in the room with him apart from Smaug himself. Which meant that it was now up to her to keep Dwalin and his team from finding Thorin for as long as possible. The other SWAT team would hopefully remain engaged with the rest of the fighters in this house for quite some time yet.

She hoped that the SWAT team would not mindlessly open fire at her as she stepped forward, removing her own protective headgear so they knew who they were facing. Her hopes held true when she saw a bulky figure emerge from behind one of the sturdy oaken desks that had served as cover. Even with not all of his face visible, the scar above the eye and way he carried himself were a dead giveaway and Daisy felt a wolf's smile spread across her lips. Dwalin.

"What do you want?" Dwalin still had his weapon raised in her direction and Daisy didn't have to turn around to know that there were dozens of guns pointed at him from behind her as well.

"Why don't we stop this useless bloodshed?" Daisy called out at him. "Doesn't look like we're getting anywhere."

Dwalin said something under his breath that Daisy was sure wasn't exactly a declaration of love. She wondered if she should tell him about his partner being in the building - but then, it might just send him over the edge and she didn't want Dwalin there. Not yet.

"What do you propose? Sitting down on our arses and have some tea?" Dwalin's voice was sharp and mocking.

"Not at all." Once again Daisy felt that grin stretch over her lips. "But instead of our teams, what if it's only us shedding blood?"

She could see Dwalin frown and then, all of a sudden, there was laughter bubbling over his lips.

"It's like we're in a bad movie," he said. "What happens next, you tell me the winner gets to leave unharmed?"

"Certainly not," Daisy asserted. Only a fool would not have taken note of the sharp coldness at the base of her voice. "But if you stay here, I might let your people know where your second team is. I'm sure they are in a much more dire situation than you at the moment."

As if to underline her words they could feel the building shake briefly and the sound of gunfire elsewhere seemed to pick up in ferociousness and speed as a reply.

"Dwalin."

Daisy's eyes travelled over to where the voice had come from and found herself looking into the barrel of yet another gun, this one held in her hands by a lady with a few strands of red hair falling into her face. Daisy's heart thrummed at the sight - she knew a fellow wolf when she saw one. This one would fight until her last breath, just like Daisy herself.

"Go, Tauriel." Dwalin's voice was hard and allowed for no discussion. "Tell the chief everything that happened. I'll be right behind you."

There was nothing but ice in his gaze and Daisy felt herself responding to it. Beneath all that righteousness and the mask of civility, they were both the same - fighters. Killers. She distantly wondered whether Thorin Durinsson had ever dug deep enough in his partner's soul to know. But then, she had once looked into Durinsson's eyes as well and seen the same shadow. Somewhere, they were all thirsting for blood.

Not taking her eyes of Dwalin Barkhun, Daisy gave her followers the sign to lower their weapons, speaking quietly in her com to relay what was happening.

"The others are in the basement.  Second corridor on the right when you go down, I reckon."

She could see the brief, wordless argument that went on between Dwalin and the woman who was obviously his second-in-command before she turned around furiously and stomped out of the room, followed by the rest of the SWAT team. Daisy's people left at the same moment, seeking out whether their boss needed some help.

Daisy licked her lips as she dropped her gun and drew her trusty hunting knife from her belt. After a moment she could see Dwalin taking off his helmet and doing the same. For a moment they just faced each other, savouring the air that promised a good hunt.

"Like good old times," Daisy grinned and lunged herself at him.

*

Thranduil’s fury was not an easy thing to wake. Oh, he could be petty and angry, yes – those moods occurred often and everybody on his team was more than familiar with their colour. True fury however, the kind that turned your thinking into a roaring sea of rage and made you do things you had never before dreamed of doing – that was something different.

He could feel it boiling inside him now, coming closer to the surface with every second. The EMP (for it could have been nothing else) had only been the first drop of oil into the fire, if a rather large one. What came after, only served to fan those flames – as if out of nowhere his team had suddenly found itself under heavy fire and Thranduil guessed that they had waited until after the explosion and subsequent use of the EMP to make their move. Two of his men were already down, unmoving, as they had been too late to react after their electronics had died.

The small part of Thranduil that wasn’t busy returning the fire and trying not to get himself killed wondered if Dwalin’s team was experiencing the same strong assault as they were just now. It was a close fight and neither of the two parties involved seemed to be willing to give even a single inch. The people they were up against had clearly been trained for situations like these – somehow Thranduil had expected no less, not with a figure like Smaug at the top.

A bullet hit the wall next to his head and Thranduil flinched back a little further, cursing under his breath. At this rate they’d simply destroy each other little by little, grating away at their strength fighter by fighter until none of them were left. Retreat was not an option; Thranduil had memorized the floor plan well enough to be able to guess that teams of their opponents would be blocking every important part of the house that might eventually lead to Smaug or Azog. And now that he was unable to communicate with Durinsson or Barkhun’s team there was no way for him to get an overview over the current situation. Unless…

He turned to his side where he saw Bard Girionsson taking cover next to him. The young man had joined their unit a mere two months ago and had proved himself rather quick on his feet and an excellent shooter. Thranduil motioned for him to come closer. It was difficult to communicate more complex issues with the surrounding noise, but somehow he managed to make clear to him what he wanted. Bard nodded and carefully crept towards the exit that they had come through. Thranduil signaled a few other members of his team and at the same moment they all picked up the assault again, hoping that they would be able to distract their foes from the fact that one of their numbers was getting out.

Thranduil could only hope that nobody suspected that he would do something as old-fashioned as sending a runner towards the others.

From the corner of his eyes he could see another one of his people going down and felt the flames of his anger burn even brighter. Kneeling down in cover again to reload he considered for the first time that this venture might indeed end in nothing less than a catastrophe.

It was then that he heard the voice for the first time. When asked afterwards he would say that he only took note because he had taken off his ear protection to talk to Bard but in truth he was never sure whether it had been there beforehand and he simply hadn’t heard it or whether this was truly the first time it sounded through the house.

It was faint, yes, but after a few moments Thranduil had little doubt as to what he was hearing – Durinsson’s name, spoken in Azog’s voice. He cursed again, fired a few shots and tried to examine the situation with a cool and detached mind as it should have by now become second nature to him. He didn’t know whether Durinsson himself was in the building or whether the voice was even real or only a recording. There was something in the back of his mind, however, that told him that this was something he shouldn’t ignore; that this was important and could change whatever the outcome of their operation was at the moment. He hadn’t forgotten that Azog could not have been happy with Smaug leaving him behind during their last assault.

It was a decision he made within the spur of a moment, hoping that it would prove right, in direct contrast as it was with his earlier thoughts.

Leaving a few men to defend the doorway against anyone coming through, not leaving the wounded out of sight and giving Bard note of what was happening as soon as he returned, he took the majority of his team and pulled them back at once to follow the strange voice he had heard. From the expressions on their faces he could see that he wasn’t the only one who had noticed it.

They made their way through the halls carefully, encountering resistance only once as they caught a group of what looked more like stragglers than fighters around the corner of one hallway. They were quickly dealt with, although it only served to lighten the flames of suspicion in Thranduil’s mind. Something was very clearly not right here.

His gut feeling turned out to be correct – as soon as he heard Durinsson’s shouting intermixed with the now almost deafeningly loud recording (no human voice could be this loud) of Azog’s voice he knew that things had gone very far from their original plan.

He began to walk faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: did you know that the preferred way to murder people in duels and by many assassins is to stab them in the armpit? Because that place is never protected and you lose blood really fast if you get hit there (which is why Thorin doesn't get stabbed in the armpit in this chapter like I'd planned originally xD).


	28. Chapter 28

For a split second old reflexes overruled the voices in Thorin’s mind. He almost caught the man who was one of the mightiest crime bosses in this part of the world in his arms before he came back to his senses.

By that point, however, Azog was out of the door and Smaug’s unexpected weight had thrown them both off balance. Thorin groaned in pain as he landed on his wounded side and had to let go of the knife in his hand. He tried to roll away to get on his feet as quickly as he could and follow Azog; however, a hand clamped itself around his ankle, yanking him back violently.

Thorin growled and kicked angrily at Smaug, trying to loosen his hold around him, but the man’s grip was surprisingly strong for his long spindly fingers. When he looked back at him something inside Thorin almost shrank back at the undiluted fiery fury in Smaug's eyes; he got the distinct impression of someone who usually acted rather calm and collected, even cold, but who could not be restrained once fury had taken over. And he _was_ furious. For a second Thorin wondered what would happen if they both simply decided to go after Azog together and return to their own feud afterwards.

It wasn't an option, however; neither of them would let the other go. Smaug had smelled blood and whoever the object or person was that he took his fury out on didn't matter. Thorin aimed another kick with his healthy leg, this time right at Smaug's face, and he saw the man snarl in response. Smaug reached up with his other hand, clearly intending to draw Thorin back towards him. With one hand, Thorin reached for the knife on the ground that he had let go of earlier but his fingers were just inches short of the hilt.

Smaug's gaze followed his hand and suddenly he roared, changing his position and momentarily letting go of Thorin. Thorin used those precious seconds to finally grab the knife, but a fist to the wound in his side left him breathless, his body involuntarily convulsing in agony. He kept the grip around the knife, just barely, and managed to land a hit in what was apparently Smaug's ankle. His opponent screamed in pain and stumbled backwards, providing Thorin with a precious moment of relief.

Thorin scrambled back, pressing his hand at his side again in a vain attempt to somehow make the pain lessen as the adrenaline was slowly deserting him.

_Maybe this is it_ , he thought. _Maybe this is how it'll end_. He wished Dwalin and his sister could have been there. And then, to his surprise, he realised that he had no desire to die. Of course he had thought about it, and more than once, but now that the moment had truly come he found that he couldn't. He wouldn't simply give up and let go. Azog was still out there and Dwalin was too and so were Dís and her children.

He could see Smaug moving again and with a last act of strength he hoisted himself up to his knees and lunged at one of the men he had brought down earlier, intending to take his gun and use it. He wasn't quite fast enough, however - just as his fingers closed around the gun's grip, Smaug's fist connected with his face, throwing Thorin's head back so fast that he almost blacked out for a moment. Pain began to spread through his cheek, but he was fast enough to bring up the gun he had grabbed and smash one of its ends into Smaug's temple. Smaug stumbled back and fell over his injured ankle, giving Thorin enough time to scramble onto his feet again.

A quick look showed him that he was next to the chest of drawers that still held the speakers Azog had used to lure him there. The decision was made within a split second and Thorin had enough time to limp over and switch them back on again, in the faint hopes it might lure someone else of his team there. Then Smaug was over him again and they both tumbled down to the ground once more as Smaug's foot connected with his wounded knee. Thorin growled under his breath, especially when Smaug managed to somehow kick the gun out of his hands.

The fact they were both wounded did nothing to dim their ferocity; and although Thorin felt his strength sapping away bit by bit, he refused to give in, matching every attack of Smaug's with his own. They were more brawling on the ground now than actually fighting, but still, their fight was no less deadly or dangerous for it. Time seemed to take on a strange quality as they fought; both slower and faster at the same time Thorin was unable to tell how much of it had actually passed. 

Things only snapped back into focus when he found himself on his back on the ground, breathing heavily as he held a gun in both of his hands, pointing it right at Smaug's face. A favourable situation, hadn't it been for the fact that Smaug was an almost exact mirror image of him - one leg trembling from the wound Thorin had given him earlier he had somehow managed to snatch the second man's gun. Thorin was looking down its barrel, wondering distantly who of them would lose patience first and pull the trigger.

For a moment there was nothing but a loud rushing in his ears as his body forcibly reminded him of all the wounds it had received, old ones and new. Then his sight cleared again and connected with Smaug's for a moment, matching the furious intensity in his gaze. His lips drew back in a snarl and-

"FREEZE! HANDS UP!"

The voice snapped through the air like a gunshot and for a moment Thorin almost pulled the trigger as a result of being startled. He turned his head to see his chief standing between the large wooden doors, gun pointed at Smaug, just like those of the people behind him. One of the SWAT members switched off the speakers, the sudden silence ringing loudly in Thorin's ears.

The fury in Smaug's gaze intensified and for a split second Thorin was sure that Smaug would shoot him, no matter the consequences. Then the fury was in parts replaced by an ice cold calculation that was in its own way even more frightening. Smaug slowly lifted his hands, one of them still holding the gun.

"Drop the gun!" Thranduil yelled. His tone was so commanding that Thorin almost followed it too. Smaug obediently dropped the gun from his hands and turned around to Thranduil, still nothing but cold murder in his eyes. A part of Thorin wanted to do nothing more than simply shoot him, unarmed or not. His gut told him that it might be the best option for them all, but his reason and code of honour yet won out.

"Durinsson, can you stand?" Thranduil's voice was still sharp and Thorin could only guess at the fury that had to be raging inside him. His eyes seemed like two pieces of cold glass.

Instead of replying, Thorin simply nodded and lowered his gun, carefully scrambling up on his feet. He betrayed his own gesture by almost falling as soon as he stood up and gritted his teeth against the small black circles dancing in front of his eyes.

"The snipers," he said quietly in his boss' direction. Thranduil nodded.

"Take out your phone and call back the snipers you set on Durinsson's family," he ordered Smaug.

The only reply he received to his command was a raised eyebrow and look of confusion flickering over Smaug's face.

"Which snipers?"

"The ones supposedly targeting my family," Thorin stated matter-of-factly. Smaug chuckled.

"Whatever information Azog has given you is incorrect," he told him. "There are no snipers."

Somewhere inside him Thorin knew that Smaug was telling the truth and the realisation was accompanied by a feeling of utmost relief. Had there been any, Smaug would surely have used their existence to force his way out of this situation. No matter the outcome of this day, his family would at least be safe. Thranduil gave Thorin a miniscule nod to signal that he took Smaug by his word as well before advancing slowly towards him.

"Durinsson," he ordered, throwing a quick gaze at Thorin. "You stay back. Keep out of the fighting and get someone to look at your wounds."

Thorin took a deep breath.

"I won't," he replied, looking Thranduil straight into the eyes even as he bent down to grab his own gun from where it still lay beside the door, as well as rip off some fabric from one of the mens' shirts to hap-hazardly bind his side. "Azog is still out there. I'll go after him."

"This was not a request, Durinsson."

"Sorry, boss." Thorin straightened back up again, ignoring the slight dizziness that came over him as he did so. The strange thing was that he truly _was_ sorry. He had never liked Thranduil, but that didn't meant he was totally immune to his plight at the moment. Walking over to the door where he had dropped the bag with the old walkie-talkies earlier, he took one of them out to take it with him, knowing that his chief would make good use of the rest.

 Without looking back Thorin made for the exit that Azog had gone through, ignoring the shout of 'DURINSSON!' behind him.

*

Thranduil was positively fuming and of half a mind to shoot a bullet into the wall next to Thorin's head to keep him from walking out. The only reason why he didn't was Smaug - he used the moment of everyone's inattention as everyone was looking at Thorin to lunge himself at Thranduil who was close enough by now. Thranduil raised his weapon, but too late; Smaug somehow managed to wrestle it out of his hands with a strength that seemed to come from sheer desperation.

Smaug was almost as tall as Thranduil and seemed to be burning with an almost unholy thirst of vengeance that let him incredible speed.

"Stay put!" Thranduil shouted as he could feel the others of his team moving behind him. He was quite sure that Smaug was even more dangerous than everybody thought and he wouldn't endanger another one of his people today if it wasn't absolutely necessary. Smaug only hissed in reply to his words and reached around Thranduil, grabbing the knife he was carrying with the same unnatural swiftness as before.

It was the final straw - Thranduil growled and consciously let go of every control he had still held over his fury. It had been a long time since he had fought in the field, but there were some things you never forgot, especially not if you practised them almost daily.

Thranduil whirled around aimed a kick at Smaug's stomach which Smaug caught with his arm, only a small twitch on his forehead showing how strong the impact must have been. Smaug's other arm with the knife snaked forwards and Thranduil ducked out of the way, aiming one of his elbow's at Smaug's side in the same motion. Their movements seemed to blur as they both kept fighting, neither of them gaining any advantage despite the knife in Smaug's hand.

It was clear that Smaug must have had more than a little practise in close combat before; somehow Thranduil wasn't even surprised by it. Everything else would have been too easy anyway. Where Thorin's fight with Smaug must have been almost like a brawl from the way they had found them, Thranduil thought that theirs was more like a dance now. A deadly dance, yes, but nonetheless more elegant than relying on pure strength and violence.

Smaug growled quietly and wavered in his balance for a moment when Thranduil's foot connected with his injured ankle. Thranduil used the moment to try and bring him off balance completely and for a moment he thought he'd succeeded, until Smaug snarled and brought himself forwards with an almost desperate lurch, the knife's blade aimed directly at Thranduil's throat. Thranduil stepped aside at the last moment, but the blade still grazed his skin, leaving a red-hot trail in its wake.

Thranduil could feel a sneer creep on his face as he whirled around to bring Smaug down again. However, despite everything Smaug was still quick and his slashes with the knife betrayed his skill with the weapon. Thranduil was sure that all members of his SWAT team surely had their weapons pointed at them by now; but with the speed that they were moving at it would be impossible for anyone to take the shot if they didn't want to risk hurting their own captain as well. 

It was a single moment of inattention that decided it in the end - Thranduil heard a loud shout from somewhere and the millisecond that he was distracted Smaug used to his advantage. Within seconds he found himself being turned around, neck in Smaug's iron grip even as the knife was being set to his throat and his helmet being taken off. None of his men were quite good enough to take the shot - Smaug was almost fully hidden behind him and although Thranduil tried to knee him in the groin, the only response was increased pressure of the knife at this throat.

"You'll walk me out of here," Smaug hissed into his ear and despite the situation, Thranduil chuckled.

"Remember how you had all the entrances blocked?" he snorted.

"Then have your people unblock them." The pressure of the knife increased again and Thranduil could feel blood welling from the wound.

"I don't think-" Thranduil never finished the sentence.

There was a loud crack in the air and he felt something hot graze his scalp as the pressure around his neck suddenly disappeared. The knife clanged to the floor, shortly followed by Smaug's body and Thranduil turned around, only to see Bard Girionsson standing in the doorway that Thorin had disappeared through earlier, weapon still raised and breathing heavily. Dwalin Barkhun was standing behind him, bruised and bloodied, but otherwise seemingly unharmed.

"Good shot." Thranduil nodded at Bard, making sure that Smaug was truly dead. Seeing that the bullet had entered at the back of his head and exited at the front there was little doubt about it. He absent-mindedly rubbed a hand over his hair, only to find it coming away smeared with blood and brain substance. Thranduil wrinkled his nose. He was definitely going to need a shower right after this.

"What happened?" Dwalin wanted to know. The tone of his voice told Thranduil that he already had an inkling that things hadn't gone quite as planned, especially not where his partner was concerned.

Thranduil told him in sharp, precise sentences as he was picking up the walkie-talkies Thorin Durinsson had left behind. He didn't wait to hear Dwalin's reply as he got into contact with their reserve team outside, hearing that to his satisfaction, most of the enemy snipers on the roofs had been taken out and they were working on clearing the entrances to the building now. Maybe there was yet a way to survive this for them all.

He could see Dwalin's eyes harden after every word of his story and wasn't even surprised when he suddenly turned around and vanished through the door again, likely following the small trail of blood Thorin had left. He nodded at three of his men, now staffed with one walkie-talkie as well, to follow him.

"Girionsson, report."

Bard came over, but just as he opened his mouth, a small explosion shook the building and Thranduil could see dust coming in through the doorway that Dwalin had just disappeared through. Soon after the three men he had sent after Barkhun staggered back in, coughing.

"Booby-trapped," one of them rasped. "Stairwell to upstairs is blocked now."

"Fuck."

*

Azog had made it easy for Thorin to find him - Thorin didn't know whether Azog had truly expected him to win the fight against Smaug or had simply not been very careful on the grounds that those who would follow him would be little danger. Maybe he was, after all, thirsting as much for a last standoff with Thorin as Thorin did.

Thorin had to pause more than once and was dimly aware that he was leaving smudges of blood from his hand on the wall and railings of the stairwell as he held on for support on the way upstairs. He could feel his strength slowly disappearing, more so with each limping step. And yet nothing short of his own death would have been able to deter him from this path. He could only hope that Dwalin was safe; and that he would be able to apologise later to his sister in person for his foolishness.

He ascended the stairs towards the highest floor of the house. On his way he noticed that this part of the building was visibly less used than the lower levels where he had just come from; there was dust here, making it easier to see Azog's footprints and the droplets of blood on the floor he had left. Thorin walked through several rooms that had clearly once been used as storage space - he could even see an entire corner full of propane gas tanks and distantly wondered what they had been for. Maybe an attack using explosives against one of Smaug's many rivals that had never been carried out in the end.

Thorin could almost feel it the moment that Azog was close; it wouldn't have needed the footprints on the dusty floor any longer to know that Azog was waiting behind the closed door right in front of him. Taking a deep breath Thorin mustered what strength he still had left and brought his weapon in position, wishing once more that he had Dwalin's reassuring presence behind him.

Willing his bad leg to keep him upright for just a few moments longer he mentally prepared himself for the pain to come before he kicked open the door with one last desperate roar.

The first gunshot sounded through the air almost as soon as the door was open. Just like Thorin earlier, Azog would not waste any time on talking now. Thorin felt the bullet whizz past him and fired two rapid shots at the figure on the other side before entering the rather large rectangular room, staying constantly in motion despite his body protesting every single move. He could see Azog moving as well and ducked behind one of the dusty chests of drawers at the wall, seeing the splinters fly over his head as several bullets hit the wood. His cover wouldn't hold long, he knew - but neither would Azog's, it being only an upturned table that he was hiding behind. Thorin leaned forwards and fired a few more rounds, seeing with satisfaction how the bullets were ripping deep craters into the wood. There was silence for a few moments as both of them were reloading before Azog fired at him once more. Thorin moved slightly, trying to shift the chest of drawers so he would have more area to hide behind. 

There was the sound of a faint explosion somewhere in the building, making the walls shake, and Thorin frowned. However, he knew that he couldn't let himself be influenced by it now, even though his mind supplied him with images of Dwalin crushed beneath stone, his lifeless eyes staring at Thorin like Frerin's when he had last seen him. A brief pause followed the sound as both of them were trying to assesse what had just happened - but then the firing picked up again and Thorin wondered for how much longer they would be able to keep this going.

A crash sounded through the room and Thorin had just enough mind to roll away out of his cover before the chandelier that had been sitting on one of the shelves above him came crashing down after Azog had shot it. He fired blindly in Azog's direction, managing to take cover again behind a large wardrobe standing in the middle of the storage room without being hit. Only then did he realise that Azog had now somehow managed to maneuver himself closer and closer to the door whilst Thorin was getting farther away from it. Apparently getting away was now higher on Azog's list of priorities than killing Thorin. Thorin wondered just how seriously he had managed to wound him earlier.

They exchanged another few bullets without doing real damage to anything but the furniture - but then Thorin's eyes widened as he saw a shadow moving down the hallway in their direction. He almost jumped out from behind his hiding place, but of course Azog had seen it too, raising his gun with what no doubt was a smile on his lips as he aimed at Dwalin's unprotected side as soon as he had entered the room.

The shots were louder in Thorin's ears than anything else he had ever heard in his life.

"DWALIN!"


	29. Chapter 29

The fight against Daisy was almost exactly like Dwalin had imagined it in those dark dreams where he had almost longed to meet her again and finish what they had started so long ago. Neither of them was willing to give a single inch - what advantage he had in bulkiness and sheer physical strength was more than equaled by her incredible speed and ferociousness.

The wildness in her eyes was like nothing he had ever seen and it was what had led to their first coming together so many years ago - that this wildness found its outlet in a lust for blood and fighting was something he had only realised later. This day, however, he found that he was almost able to match the wolf in her. There was a feeling of finality to the entire situation and it brought out the bloodlust in him that he usually kept under control so tightly.

He snarled with almost every slash he made at her and sometimes they were so close that he could smell Daisy's breath and see the flecks of silver in her eyes. Even when she managed to put a gash across his cheek with her knife and smash his head against a wall so hard he saw stars, he licked the blood from his lips with a smile and barely hesitated when fighting back. Their fight was based solely on animalistic instincts and little else and Dwalin would never admit it to himself, but he almost relished. To let go of any boundaries so completely – it was something that he almost never allowed himself to do.  

It was Dwalin who finally had the upper hand this time, although it was almost as much luck as skill. He was just a second faster than Daisy in one moment and managed to sink his knife into her upper arm, making her cry out in anger and pain. This moment of distraction and weakness was all he needed - within seconds he had taken the knife from her hands. Not even that could lessen her lust for fighting, however - she managed to almost break his arm with a quick movement of hers before Dwalin succeeded in knocking her out with two well-aimed hits to the temple.

He was sure she wouldn't stay out for long, but lacking any communication devices he also knew that he would have to get at least some of his team members to watch her. Making sure that she would be unable to move when she woke up he finally stepped out of the room, only now realising just how thorough their fight had been. His body hurt almost everywhere and the cut on his face wasn't the only part that was bleeding - although none of the injuries seemed overly serious.

As he followed the path Tauriel and the others must have taken after Daisy's description he noted a strange feeling in his stomach. Something had gone wrong somewhere and he couldn't shake the suspicion that it had to do with Thorin. His steps quickened.

The situation itself was taken care of relatively fast - he found Tauriel engaged in a fight with a number of Smaug's (or where they Azog's?) people and a young SWAT officer named Bard Girionsson who Thranduil had reportedly thought of sending as a runner towards their own team.

Dwalin sent part of the team back towards where Daisy was so they could take care of her. Together with Girionsson he made his way towards Thranduil, relying on Tauriel and the remaining officers to be able to take care of the fight here. They both arrived just in time to see Thranduil getting overwhelmed by Smaug and, luckily enough for their boss, Dwalin had memorised the floor plan of the building well enough to be able to lead their best shooter to the back door. All of the satisfaction at Smaug's death, however, quickly dissipated when Dwalin realised that Thorin had been here, that he was wounded and going after Azog on his own now. There was no question of what he was going to do, even if Thranduil ordered him otherwise. Without so much as a second glance at the room where Smaug;’s corpse still lay on the ground he turned and followed his partner, the passage all too clearly marked by the smudges of blood on the floor and the wall.

There were shouts and the sounds of an explosion behind him, the force of it making him stagger forwards. Dwalin cursed when he looked behind him and saw that the ceiling had come down where he had been walking upstairs only seconds ago - he guessed that it must have been a mechanism triggered when more than one or two people walked over it to avoid larger teams coming up here as one. It meant that Thorin and he were truly alone, at least until the others could find another way upstairs. If Thorin was still alive, that was.

Gritting his teeth against those thoughts Dwalin forced his legs to go on as fast as they could as he continued to run up the stairs. He could now hear the sound of gunshots coming from above him and readied his own weapon in response - he wanted to be ready for whatever came towards him.

At first he saw nothing through the open doors in front of him apart from old furniture with quite a number of bullet holes in it. He took another step forwards and inside, weapon raised.

Thorin's scream and the gunshot sounded through the air at the same time and for a split second Dwalin was confused before something ripped through his side and threw him to the ground. The air was a mess of colour and noise and for a second he couldn't breathe; he saw Thorin coming towards him, limping and firing his gun in rapid bursts. There was answering fire from somewhere to his left but somehow his thoughts seemed to have become slow and he was unable to understand what he was seeing.

There wasn't much pain, not yet - parts of his brain were yelling something about shock, but Dwalin could only stare at the blood on his fingertips in childlike astonishment as they came away from his side. There was a loud crash somewhere to his side and splinters were raining down but all of a sudden he found it hard to turn his head, his own breathing unnaturally loud in his ears. Then Thorin was in his field of vision, eyes wide and panicked and blood running down one side of his face. Dwalin wanted to lift his arm to wipe it away, but found that he couldn't.

Thorin was shouting something and there were hands on his side now, beginning to send tendrils of pain into his mind. After a moment he realised that what Thorin was shouting was his name, over and over again.

"Thorin." His own voice sounded wrong somehow.

"Dwalin. I'm here. I'm here." Thorin's voice was hitching, sounding as panicked as it had done the night when he had been so besides himself in fear that he had almost cut off his hair. He was fumbling around at this side, tying something around Dwalin and he groaned as another bolt of pain went through him like lighting.

"We need to get out of here, Dwalin. Azog's down because I dropped a wardrobe on him but he won't be for long, we need get out of here and get help-"

With those words he gripped Dwalin under the shoulders and began to hoist him upright. Dwalin could see how Thorin's entire body was trembling, his face ashen. He tried to help, but it was hard to get his legs to coordinate properly.

He felt so tired.

*

Thorin was hearing nothing but screaming in his own mind as he tried to pull Dwalin upright so they could both get out of here. The wounds in Dwalin's side were deep and he was bleeding so severely that Thorin was sure he wouldn't stay conscious for much longer. In his wrath and fear Thorin had somehow managed to take Azog out temporarily by shooting a few storage boards and dropping half a bedroom on him - but to look for Azog under the parts of broken furniture would cost precious time which Dwalin didn't have. He had to hope that Azog would stay buried under there for long enough for them to escape.

His knee was screaming in protest and almost buckled under him when he finally managed to drape Dwalin's arm around his shoulders and take a first few tottering steps down the hallway. There was blood, so much blood-

Suddenly Thorin knew that they wouldn't make it. Dwalin wouldn't stay alive long enough for him to drag him down the stairs - and Thorin didn't have the strength to do so anyway. Dwalin mumbled something under his breath and it took Thorin a moment to understand what he was saying.

"Leave me. Get away and-"

"No," he pressed out the word, willing his voice not to break. "I'll stay with you."

He could hear something crash behind him and knew that Azog was regaining consciousness. They were running out of time. His gaze travelled around until he saw the propane gas tanks again and suddenly he knew what to do.

_Forgive me, Dís_ , he thought. _I never wanted to do this to you_.

He limped closer, bit by bit, noticing how the shuffling of Dwalin's feet was becoming weaker with each step. Finally they were close enough.

Thorin lowered Dwalin down to the ground with unending gentleness, sliding down at the wall next to him as his own legs gave out under him as well. Dwalin's breathing had become shallow but his eyes were still open. Thorin could feel his body trembling.

He took hold of the walkie-talkie he had taken with him earlier and switched it on.

"Boss."

"Durinsson?" Thranduil's voice sounded far away.

"The building will blow up in a moment from the top floor. I suggest you get out as fast as you can. Take the others and all the wounded with you."

"Durinsson, what-"

"Dwalin is injured. We won't make it. Get out."

"Don't you _dare_ , Durinsson, I _order_ you to get back-"

"Don't tell me you're going soft on us now, boss. Doesn't suit you."

"Durinsson!"

He could almost see Thranduil's enraged face at his words and smiled. Then he switched off the walkie-talkie, hoping that they would do what they were told. There wasn't much time left.

Thorin put his arm around the man he had lived with and loved for what felt like an entire life even though it had only been a few years and heard him grumbling in response. Dwalin lifted his head and looked at him and for a moment his eyes were clear, the grey in them shining so brightly that Thorin couldn't help but smile. Then Dwalin's gaze wandered over to the gas tanks and the gun in Thorin's hand.

There were no words needed to understand anything between them.

Dwalin's hand crept over to Thorin's, gripping the gun together with him.

Thorin pulled him closer and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. There were hundreds of words swimming around his head but he found himself unable to say any of them, knowing that Dwalin already knew what he wanted to tell him - that he was sorry, that he loved him, that he wished it could have ended differently. He would have given anything to see his sister and nephews one last time and tell them how sorry he was.

"I'm glad you're here," he finally whispered. Dwalin's reply was so quiet that he almost couldn't hear it.

"Aye."

They sat silently for a while longer and Thorin could feel the life seeping out of them both as he cradled Dwalin in his arms. Then he heard the steps coming from his right where the storage room was and as he turned his head, he saw Azog slowly limping out, teeth bared in an ugly smile that had almost nothing human anymore.

Thorin raised the gun and could feel Dwalin's fingers tightening around his.

"Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker." Dwalin murmured. Thorin laughed quietly. 

  _I love you_ , he thought.

Then he pulled the trigger.

*

Most of Thranduil's team had made it outside by the time the upper parts of the building came down and the rest was stumbling out, even as smoke and flames were billowing from the roof. Thranduil turned and watched, registering everything only distantly - the reports that Daisy had somehow escaped, that most of the others were safe, that they had taken quite a few men prisoner. None of those things truly seemed to matter.

In a movie, the heroes would now come walking out of the burning building, having defied the villain against all odds and miraculously survived. In a movie, there would be laughter and bad jokes and a beer together back at the station once everyone was up and walking again. Thranduil had always hated those kind of novels and movies; and yet he found himself wishing that he was in one now.

But this wasn't a movie. It was life. And no matter how long they waited, how long they stared, nobody was coming out and the walkie-talkie remained silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess you could say they went out with a bang. Uhm. Sorry?


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue.

Dís stared at the phone in her hand, barely listening to the voices coming out of it. It had been several days since they had brought her the news, but somehow time seemed to have become completely unimportant, a strange creature that kept eluding her.

Her mind kept circling back to the day she had first heard - even before the doorbell had rang at her parents' house, she had known. She had always known when something wasn't right with her brothers. She didn't remember much of what had been said apart from the grief in Chief Thranduil's eyes but even that seemed strange and disconnected.

_"I'm sorry Mrs. Durinsson, I-"_

_"Get out." Dís' voice was flat and dead. She was distantly aware that her hands were trembling and there was nothing but a gaping hole where her stomach had been, but all she could think about was how she needed to be alone. Right now. She didn't care whether it was section chief Thranduil or the president himself standing in front of her door, she just needed them to leave._

_"Do you need any-"_

_"No._ Get. Out. _" She was grating out the words from between her teeth. They seemed to fall from her mouth like dead things, writhing on the floor._

_Thranduil nodded and she banged the door shut as soon as he turned around to go, her hands now trembling so strongly that she was barely able to close it properly. Nobody else was in the house and for that, at least, she was grateful._

_Without thinking, she reached out and swept the porcelain vase on the stand next to her to the floor where it shattered into a thousand pieces. Rage was filling her mind, sweeping across it like a sandstorm over the desert. She screamed, her voice sounding through the empty rooms but never receiving a reply; and in her fury she continued to smash what she could find, bellowing out her rage at a world that would rip her brother and one of her best friends from her when they had been one of the last things she had left._

_At some point her fury finally left, leaving behind nothing but emptiness and ragged, bleeding cuts on her hands and soul. She remembered sitting amongst the shards on the floor and staring at them for a long time before a distant thought kicked in and told her to stand up and get herself cleaned up before anyone would come home to find her so. She couldn't even remember getting up, however._

The voice on the other end of the line had suddenly gone quiet and Dís realised they were probably waiting for an answer.

"Sorry, I wasn't quite listening during that last part. Could you repeat that?" she asked. The voice on the other end sighed.

"There will be a ceremony in a few days where they will of course receive a medal for their bravery, even if posthumously and we were wondering if you would eventually want to do a speech-"

“No." Suddenly Dís was nothing but tired. "I don’t want any bloody medals or honours. And I sure as hell don't want to give a fucking speech about how valuable their sacrifice was. All I want is my brother back. And I am sure my sons would prefer their uncles being alive instead of dead heroes.”

She knew it was the truth; but the only answer she received was deafening silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end - well, of this particular story anyway. Don't worry, there will be more in this universe - AUs, mainly and more filler stories for the years in between LTW and FWTBT. The morale of it? There is none - because life doesn't always have one either apart maybe from the fact that death can come and snatch anyone away at any time - so make sure that the ones you love know it and that they will smile when theyremember you. 
> 
> I want to thank everyone who has come along for this ride from the bottom of my heart - your support kept me going and despite the terrible ending I still hope you enjoyed this somewhat. And kudos to you if you made it all the way through to the end. Writing this hasn't been easy - there were a lot of tears involved from my side and lots more research than one might think. I still can't quite believe it's over to be honest. Thank you, thank you, thank you all again!


End file.
